Roses of Life
by Carmela Darling
Summary: When Christine is taken down into the catacombs of the Opera Populaire, she is forced to choose between her betrothed and the mysterious Opera Ghost. With her decision made, what will her new life bring her? E/C
1. A New Beginning

_**Important Notice:** __As a few of you may have figured out by now, I have been in a hiatus of roughly two or so years. This has been because of several reasons, mostly personal, that I will not get in to. The point of this post is to inform anyone who is still reading my work or waiting for some signs of life, _especially_ from this story. I will not be continuing it as is; I'm planning to rewrite the entire story, and that will involve a major plot changes. I will be keeping the original characters I've come up with (Anthony, Aida, Felicity, Henri, and Marcel to name a few) but some parts of them may change from what they were originally. To be honest, I'm still debating whether to delete this story, or simply update the chapters to the new format. But either way, in a year or so this specific story will be gone. In a month or two I might put up the first chapter to replace this one, to see how well it is received. If you are reading this when that has already occurred, please leave feedback on the "teaser"._

_But long story short, I wanted to say this to inform people that a _lot_ of things are going to change, and that, if they are still invested in this story after so long, they need to be prepared for that change. I've grown a lot as a writer and a person since I started this story at 14. I'm now going to college, becoming an adult and having new ideas that I never had before. I want this story to reflect that change in me; to be the best I can write it. Hopefully, you all will like what comes out, and will stick around to see where it goes._

* * *

Roses of Life

* * *

Standing off on the shore, Christine watched with immense sadness as the man who had taken her captive, the same man who killed others in her name but also taught her the joy of music, turned to look at her once again. "Well, Christine?" he growled. "What is your choice?" With his words, his hands gripped the rope they held tighter and yanked hard, causing the man attached on the other end to sputter. A pleading look was apparent in her eyes, but the Phantom would have absolutely none of it. Remaining silent, he kept a steady gaze on her, like a lion stalking its prey, as he awaited her answer. Christine's mind was swimming as she thought of what to do. Her eyes darted to Raoul, remembering everything that had happened between the two. She loved Raoul, she knew that much, but to what extent she was unaware. They had grown up together as children, and later on he was like a guardian to her. He deeply cared for her, going as far as ignoring the social scandal it could bring up and proposing to her. Though she had accepted with an exburance she did not know she had, seeds of doubt were beginning to sprout in her mind. And who else could plant these seeds than her mysterious tutor?

With the Phantom it was something new... something different. He caused feelings and passions to stir within her that she wasn't sure was right to have. But even with that he smoothed her worries, silently letting her know that it was alright to feel the way she did around him. It was true that he was dangerous and unpredictable, but for some reason that only added to the allure. In the beginning she was frightened, but after some time when they were together, whether during their lessons or the occasional trip underground, she had grown... dare she say, close to him. And with that time together, he hardly ever lashed out at her. He was gentle and caring, always treating her like a delicate figurine.

Together they shared music, and from all the time they spent together she had learned to care for him. Possibly even love him.

But the blissfulness did not last. Men began to drop, one by one, and Christine soon became frightened. Raoul hardly made things better, giving her a few morsels of comfort before shoving her headlong into a ridiculous trap. _Then..._ she thought, a slight throbbing in her heart as she remembered it, _he confessed his love_. Why she had not seen it earlier, she did not know. But wondering why now would be pointless.

"You monster," Raoul managed to say, watching helplessly as Christine bit her lips as she thought of her options laid out before her. After a moment of silence, she lifted her eyes and slowly walked into the water. Moving deeper into the small lake, she approached the man who was the source of all their nightmares and fear. At first, she seemed confusioned, like she was trying to understand something. But it seemed that by the time she arrived besided the unmasked figure realization had dawned upon her and that her mind was completely set.

"I choose you," she whispered. Raoul could almost hear his heart burst from sadness at the words. But nothing at all could prepare him for what happened next. "I love you," Christine said, sliding the same ring the Phantom had given to her onto her third left finger. In one fluid movement, the ring was resting on her hand and the same hand rested against his cheek as her lips met his.

"Don't you touch her!" he yelled the moment the rope loosened around his neck.

"You have no say," the other man, the one who had clearly won Christine's heart, hissed at him after pulling away from her. After a well placed glare in Raoul's direction, he returned to Christine and smiled warmly at her. "Erik..." he whispered. "My name is Erik."

"Christine, you don't have to do this! Choose your freedom; I'm not worth your entire life! Escape this place, forget me, find someone else! I don't care what happens, just get away from this monster-"

"_Be quiet_!" Erik roared, wrenching the rope he still held, causing Raoul to suddenly gasp from the lack of breath. As he watched the Vicomte close his eyes and wheeze slightly, a demonic sort of glee apparent on his face, he suddenly felt a small hand rest atop his.

"Please...don't hurt him," she pleaded, her voice soft. "I may love you, but I still care for him." His body stiffened at her words, and Christine was quick to reassure him. "We were childhood friends, surely you've learned that? It's just... he's been there so much that I would hate to see him hurt." Slowly, Erik calmed down at smiled at her as his breathing stilled. Reluctantly, he left go of the rope before walking towards the back of the cavern.

"You may untie him," he instructed Christine as he continued walking. She nodded quickly and was soon moving through the water, this time towards Raoul. Hearing glass break, she turned her head around in time to see Erik disappear behind a heavy curtain that fell behind him. Turning back to Raoul, she tried to blank out her mind as she untied the ropes holding him down.

"I'm sorry, Raoul," she said quietly, "but I do love him."

"But I love you more than that...that _thing_ ever could!" he retorted as he rubbed his skin where the ropes had cut and burned into him.

"You may think that, but my feelings remain the same," she muttered under her breath, helping to remove the rest of the ropes keeping him hostage.

"Then what about us?" he snapped. "All that we went through? Did that mean _nothing _to you?" he paused, his eyes looking past her to the curtained off area that the Phantom had disappeared behind. "Obviously it didn't..."

"It did!" Christine insisted. "It's just...oh, Raoul, you just don't understand," she said, her voice coaxing and gentle as she moved closer to him. Instead he backed away, pressing himself against the bars in an attempt to avoid her touch.

"I understand," he muttered. "I understand completely, Christine." She gazed sadly at him, about to say more but was stopped as Erik came storming back into the room. The look of both panic and fury was practically radiated off of him. Slightly terrified, Christine backed away from Raoul just as Erik moved through the water toward them both. Thinking that his fury was towards her, she closed her eyes so she wouldn't see him as he was attacking her. Never before had she seen such anger in a person.

But when nothing came, she slowly opened her eyes to see that Erik had attached his firm grip around Raoul's neck and had lifted him high up so that his feet dangled above the water before slamming him against the iron grate. For a short moment, his gaze drifted to hers.

"Hide," he ordered. "_Now_. They're coming here," he hissed, his grip around Raoul's neck constricting. Deliberately, his cold gaze turned to Raoul. "You told them we were here, didn't you?" he questioned, bringing his face closer to Raoul's. Erik took great satisfaction as the younger man visably trembled in fear and desperately attempted to claw at his hand in a weak effort at escape. "Oh well," he muttered. "I'll just leave them something to find."

Christine's shocked stare grew even wider at his words. "Don't, _please_!" she exclaimed. "Erik..." she whispered, placing a hand on his arm, her eyes pleading as they were before. For a moment, it seemed that Erik was going to do as Christine wished, to let Raoul go unharmed and simply take her away. But all hopes of that were quickly dashed when a light voice called out into the silence.

"Christine?" Meg's voice called out. "Raoul? Are you alright?" Christine could easily hear both her friend and the accompanying mob behind her moving closer to their location and also noticed the growing panic on Erik's face. The man standing beside her stood stiff as they both silently watched as Meg soon came into view of them both. If possible, Erik's skin paled even more as he carefully leaned closer to Raoul.

"I'll kill you..." he hissed, causing Raoul to whimper. "How _dare_ you send a mob! Do you not wish to _live_?"

"Please..." Raoul begged, his voice trembling as his hands continued to cling onto the grip around his neck. "Please spare me." By now, tears were falling down his face, but not as before, Christine noted. Earlier they were tears of sadness from knowing that he was never to see her again. Now they were the tears of a coward; of a man desperately wishing to live. Her heart turned a little colder toward him, leaving her wondering what happened to the man that was willing to give up his life for her freedom.

"Why should I?" Erik asked, his voice cold and calculation as his hold on the Vicomte tightened. Noticing Meg walking closer as well as the voices of the mob, he quickly let go of the other man, causing him to limply fall into the water. Raoul grasped at his neck, wheezing and coughing violent as the air came rushing into his lungs for the second time.

"What a nuisance," he muttered, rushing past Christine onto the dry land once again before approaching the curtain where he had disappeared earlier. Lifting the curtain, Christine soon discovered that it was a large mirror that had been shattered to reveal a tunnel behind it.

"Wait-"

"We cannot wait, Christine, we must leave for now," he told her. "Follow after when you've said your final 'goodbyes'," he said before disappearing down the darkened corridor behind the curtain.

Watching as the Phantom suddenly leave her line of vision, Meg quietly waited until she was sure that he was gone before fully revealing herself. Carefully venturing further, she soon saw Raoul and Christine and smiled as she ran up to the metal grate that seperated them. "Christine! Christine, I'm so glad to see you! Everyone has been looking, to come and save you," she exclaimed happily, smiling brightly at her friend. But when Christine merely shook her head, her smile slowly dropped down to a frown.

"I don't want to be saved, Meg. I'm leaving." Raoul, who still remained in the water, began to stand up and turned to face her, his hand clutching onto the cold iron bars for supported. His eyes were red from his tears, which were still flowing freely of their own accord.

"Why Christine? Why..._him_? Did I...Do I mean nothing at all to you?"

"I can't explain it, Raoul. I just love him," she whispered, trying to explain but her voice growing weak as he turned from her. Christine did the same, unable to look at the shame and defeat etched onto his face. Meg looked at both of them, confused.

"Christine...what is going on?" she asked. Her friend turned to look at her, the expression on her face begging for forgiveness and understanding.

"I'm leaving with the Phantom- his name is Erik. I'm going with him and I don't know if I'll ever be back," she explained, walking up to the metal gate and taking Meg's hands in her own. "You can't tell anyone! Please, Meg, you must promise me!" she said beseechingly.

"But Christine..."

"It's what I want, Meg."

"But what about Raoul? You accepted his proposal, didn't you?" she insisted.

"How could you love such a beast?" Raoul suddenly demanded. "He is obviously a monstrosity, yet you seem to protect him and practically worship the very ground he walks on!" Clenching his fists in both frustration and anger, he abruptly turned and slammed his fisted hand into the iron grate. Ignoring the pain that pulsed through him, he cradled his hand and leaned heavily against the grate. He felt utterly destroyed, his heart completely broken. With the three words that Christine had said to the Phantom, the three words that she kept repeating, all joy that he had known disappeared into thin air.

"What do you mean?" Meg questioned, her voice barely above a whisper as she tried to make sense of what he said.

"That man- nay, that _thing_- has killed people and terrorized this opera house for years now. It has no heart. _That_ is what I mean," he hissed. Both women stared at him in silence. Christine in shocked horror and Meg in disbelief.

"Come back with us...please?" Meg begged, breaking the strained silence as she turned to her companion. "We can keep you safe-"

"No. It's not about being safe or afraid," Christine explained, lightly placing her hand on top of his. "Love is irrational. I'm sorry."

"I know. I experienced it," Raoul retorted, roughly pulling his hand away from hers, "once." Christine sighed in defeat, stepping away from him to show that she understood. Off in the distance, the shouts coming from the angered mob were coming closer.

"Promise," Christine whispered hurriedly, holding her friend's hands once again as her eyes grew wide, knowing that at any moment she could be seen.

"Of course, Christine," Meg answered with a weak smile. Raoul continued to stand in silence, refusing to answer her plea, but Christine was unable to wait for his reply as Erik soon reappeared. His glare was directed at both Meg and Raoul, but he remained silent as Christine walked up to him and took his hand.

"Goodbye, Meg... Raoul..." she said before allowing Erik to lead her past the red curtain, disappearing into the darkness it created, not looking back once.


	2. The Lullaby

E: Oh my God I'm so excited! It's the second oh so much wonderful chapter!

C: So you were too lazy to write out the full names?

E: Yes. *smiles* Sorry anyone who was looking forward to it, I'm just too lazy. Anyways, I have a few, quick things to say before we start the chapter.

C: You're always talking. Let me explain it for once.

D: It's only the second chapter! *pouts* Fine, take your stupid explanation, I don't need it. *does random cape wave then goes and sulks in a corner*

C: God, I'm going to have to deal with that later. Oh well. Erik just wanted to say that he wants to apologize for anything that anyone either took offense

to or anything else. Also, this is his first story so he's very…touchy about everything.

E: I am not!

C: We know, Erik, we know. Just go back into your corner. *waits* Okay, now please, enjoy Chapter Two.

* * *

Roses of Life

* * *

"Where are we going?" Christine asked excitedly as she stepped fully into the tunnel. The man in front of her smiled mysteriously as he led her deeper into the dark corridor. They both continued walking in silence, the peculiar half-smile still placed on Erik's face.

When several minutes had passed, Christine opened her mouth to ask him the question once again. Before the words could leave her mouth, though, Erik had stopped and turned to face her. Still smiling, he placed a finger against his lips then pointed towards the ceiling. Shouting and footsteps were easily heard through the layers and layers of thick ceiling.

"As you can tell, they're all pretty upset over this," he murmured. He continued to lead Christine down the tunnel until he finally stopped several minutes later. Christine stared at him, puzzled, as he blindly pressed against the wall, collecting dust on his hands.

Eyes widening with shock, Christine watched as a portion of the wall opened up right before her. Erik stepped aside, watching silently as Christine walked into the room, then followed after her. As the door closed behind him, he began lighting candle as he let Christine take everything in.

The room was, more or less, an exact replica of the former room that they were in. The stone walls were lined with candles that he was busy himself with lighting, and had a small open space where a smaller version of his organ sat. Unlike the last room, the whole place was one entire room separated by curtains. The tapestries and beautiful rugs that decorated the last room were also missing too. When he finished all the candles, he turned around and noticed that Christine was no longer in the same room. Panic instantly rose inside of him as he briskly strode through the small section.

"Christine?" he called out, his voice slightly trembling, "Christine?" Suddenly, he felt a hand place itself on his shoulder and he froze slightly. It didn't last long, though, as he whipped around and ended up grabbing Christine's wrist. Panting heavily, he watched as she gazed at him and laughed lightly. Again, he felt something in his chest melt.

"You're a jumpy sort, aren't you?" she asked him, still laughing. Erik couldn't help but smile slightly as she brought her hand he was holding to slightly cover her mouth as she continued to laugh.

"It tends to happen," he said softly, taking the hand resting at her side and bringing it up to his lips. Lightly, he kissed the top of them, "when you've been alone as long as I have."

Christine's laughter stopped and she broke out into a wide smile as she moved her body closer to him. "I'm here now," she whispered as he smiled in return. Letting one of his hands go from hers, he instead brought it up to her own face and placed it on her cheek.

"This is a hidden room," he explained, "we'll stay here until the mob's quieted down."

"That's perfectly fine with me," Christine replied. His thumb softly brushed over her cheek as he slowly leaned forward and kissed her forehead.

"You must be tired," he stated softly. Christine was entranced by his voice, the deep sound soothing to her nerves as her mind flew from one thought to another recklessly. Nodding her head in response, she felt Erik take her small hand in his large one and lead her through the small room. Walking her past another heavy curtain, he walked her up to the bed placed at the end of the room and sat down next to her as she laid down in it's pillows and sheets.

"Don't go away," Christine mumbled, her voice like a scared child as Erik tenderly brushed back her brown hair.

"I won't leave you, Christine. Now get some sleep," he replied as he slowly stood up. Christine lifted herself up, her eyes pleading with him not to go.

"Sing to me? Please?" she begged, unwilling to let him leave. Erik let slip another smile as he sat back down next to her. She moved closer to him until her head rested on his chest and listened to his heart beating as he wrapped his arms around her.

"For how long?" he asked her, holding her close to him.

"Just one…"

"Okay then," he whispered as he searched his mind for a song he knew to lull her to sleep. Glancing downward, he noticed that she was already on the

edge of falling asleep and smiled.

"Maybe I didn't love you...quite as often as I could have..." he began, his deep voice washing over her like the warm sun, causing her pretty brown eyes to flutter. "And maybe I didn't treat you...quite as good as I should have. If I made you feel second best...I'm sorry, I was blind... You were always on...on my mind..." Reaching gently out, he brushed back a stray curl of brown from Christine's face as she continued to stare out into nothingness, completely entranced by the song as her breathing evened out, her brown eyes beginning to close. "Maybe I didn't hold you...all those lonely, lonely times. I guess I never told you...I'm so happy that you're mine." Her head rested limply against his chest, her shoulders rising and falling gently as she dipped into a light sleep. "Little things I should have said and done, I just never took the time... But you were always on...on my mind. You were always...always on my mind. Tell me...tell me, tell me that your sweet love hasn't died... Give...give me...one more chance to keep you satisfied."

When the song was finished Christine had fallen fast asleep in his arms. Gently, he laid her back down into the bed, lightly stroking her hair as he gazed down at her sleeping form. "I'll make sure that they won't find us," he promised before standing up and striding out of the room.

* * *

Meg watched as Raoul pitifully sat in the water, his face buried into his palms. "Let it go Raoul," she advised as she bent down to his sitting form, placing a hand on his shoulder, "you can't win her back now."

"I know that," he hissed in uncontrolled anger as he kept thinking of the events leading up to everything. Raoul didn't understand what he did wrong. He loved Christine, he proposed to her and promised to stay by her side, but she left him for a stranger she hardly knew. Sighing, he dug into his inner coat pocket and took out a photograph he had of him and Christine. "No sense in staying here," he said as he stood up from the water, letting the photograph drop into it, "let's go Meg."

"I agree," she replied as she watched him trudge through the water, feeling sympathetic towards him, "but how will you get out?" No sooner had she asked then Raoul pulled the lever to the metal gate, causing it to slowly rise. Meg gave Raoul a sad smile and held out her hand. "Come on, let's go." Raoul walked back up to her and took her hand in his as he followed her through the underground labyrinth.

Hand in hand they both continued walking until they finally arrived back on the surface, the opera house in shambles and filled with chaos. Before Meg could walk any further, Raoul stopped her and turned her around to face him.

"Thank you," he said, gazing deep into her eyes. Meg simply smiled back, unaware of the surrounding anarchy.

"It's no trouble," she said as she turned around to begin the search of her mother. Again, she was stopped by Raoul.

"No, really. If there was any way I could repay you for your kindness…" he said softly as his gaze moved from her eyes to her lips. Meg continued to look at him innocently, not understanding his intentions. Slowly, he moved closer to her, his lips within inches of hers.

"Mama!" Meg suddenly cried out as she broke from Raoul grasp and ran up to her mother standing a few feet away from the two. Inside, Raoul cursed Sorelli for the intrusion.

"What is it Meg?" she asked calmly as she eyed Raoul who was walking up behind the blonde.

"Mama, the Phantom! He took Christine!" Meg exclaimed, grabbing onto her mother's hands. Sorelli let out an exhausted sigh.

"Let them be," she stated, slightly annoyed with this problem as well as the other ones piling up on her.

"But Mama!"

"Don't talk back to me! You're a grown woman; don't act like a child," she snapped, causing Meg to fall silent. "Now, did Christine choose to go?"

"Well…yes but—"

"Madame Giry, please! We have to find and rescue her!" Raoul interrupted, causing Sorelli to fiercely glare at him.

"Exactly, Mama! Christine could be in grave danger!" Meg added, fear starting to consumed her ability to think.

"Do whatever you want, I won't help either of you," Sorelli retorted coolly.

"But… Christine—"

"Is where she wants to be," Sorelli said firmly. Meg slowly let go of her mother and looked down, ashamed and defeated. Raoul stared at the older woman in confusion on why she wouldn't help them save Christine from what only could be certain death.

"Yes, Mama, I'm sorry," Meg murmured. Sorelli nodded her approval, gave one last look at Raoul, and then lifted up her daughter's chin so she would look at her.

"Christine is happy where she is now. Don't ruin it for her with your childish fears. She's safe and now it's up to you to let her be," she explained before walking off past her daughter. Silence passed between Raoul and Meg until one of them finally spoke.

"Maybe Mama is right, Raoul. Maybe Christine _is_ happier where she is now."

"And maybe I'll sooner die then leave that to chance," he replied angrily before walking off past Meg as well, leaving her alone to wonder.

* * *

Erik soundlessly slipped through the passageways of the opera house, the darkness as his cover. People were still shouting, still searching for a woman they all knew they would never find. He couldn't help but take enjoyment out of the thought of driving the managers and Raoul close to insanity from trying to find her.

It wasn't until several minutes later that he stopped, his eyes scanning the halls backstage. Seeing no one, he slipped out of the secret corridor and into the shadows the angles of the walls created. Carefully, he moved along the passage until he reached the room where Christine spent her sleep-filled nights. Entering quietly, his eyes were quick to adjust to the darkness as he began taking things from her wardrobe, placing them in a bag to take to her.

Managing to take a few dresses, he stopped his task as something caught his eye. He straightened his stance and turned to Christine's desk. A small book was resting on the wood, a ribbon resting in the middle of the pages. The ribbon, he could tell, was a soft red, much like a rose's petals, and had a delicately stitched 'C' on the end in silver thread.

Ignoring common sense, he opened the book up to the saved page and stared at the small, elegant writing. His eyes weren't strong enough to read the light handwriting, only able to catch words such as 'Phantom', 'Raoul', and 'love'. Giving up on trying to read the faint script, he picked up the book and tucked it into his waistcoat pocket.

He turned back around to finish the packing but was interrupted by soft footsteps heading in the direction of Christine's room. Panicking, he grabbed the bag and hid behind the door as it opened. A girl of about sixteen years walked uneasily into the room just as he disappeared.

"It must be in here somewhere. _Oh_!" the girl whispered as she stumbled into something in the dark. "Lamp. There has to be a lamp somewhere in this place." Clinking noises were heard clearly before a soft light illuminated the room. As the girl continued to talk to herself, Erik made his escape, slipping through his hiding spot and out the door, breathing a sigh of relief.

With his errand done, he retraced his travels back until he arrived back into the cavern, still finding Christine fast asleep. Placing the bag down on the floor, he walked up to the edge of the bed and gazed lovingly at her as she continued to sleep. He quickly took off all of his clothing save his pants and climbed into the bed beside her. With his arm resting on Christine's waist, he gently kissed the top of her head.

"Good night, Christine," he whispered softly, not knowing whether she could hear or not, "I love you…"

* * *

"I love you too, Erik."

E: Okay, just a few quick things to say!

C: You always have to talk though, can't you just regularly…I don't know, talk?

E: *completely ignores* I just wanted everyone to know that Erik has suffered a great pain recently while writing so he apologizes if there are any mistakes or plot details that don't seem to match up.

C: What really happened was that he spilled hot ramen on his foot and now has a burn.

E: *still ignoring* Also, just as a head's up, there will be some R/M scenes later on in the story but (thank god) only for a short while and it's absolutely crucial for a later plot line. So just try to bare through it, okay?

C: Furthermore, we would like to thank SweenyToddRocksMySocks…well it was really Erik that wanted to thank you…

E: You made Erik so happy! He was so happy with the review and that someone didn't think it was corny. *big smile*

C: Anyways, thank you also to anyone that reads this phanfiction and that we will have the third chapter posted up as soon as possible.

E: Stayed tuned!

**Author's Note: The song, for those of you that have read the original chapter, has changed. I learned it from a very dear friend of mine. Though he does not care for it much, I still would like to thank him for telling me the lyrics. In my opinion, I like this better than the last one, but that's just me...**


	3. A Kiss

E: Erik is so tired…

C: At least you got the chapter done.

E: *rests head on your shoulder* Erik wants to sleep, but he can't because of stupid finals. *yawns* Why does school hate Erik, Christine?

C: *smiles* It's okay Erik, it's almost over. As soon as break comes out, you can write to your hearts content.

E: Okay…

C: Enjoy the chapter! Wish we could say more but Erik is too out of it. Have fun.

* * *

Roses of Life

* * *

Raoul walked through the empty halls of the Opera Populaire, silently passing door after door until he arrived at a familiar one. Dawdling, he reached out to the door knob and opened the door into Christine's room, taking a deep breath as he did so. The entire room was filled with darkness, but Raoul could easily hear something that sounded like shuffling coming from inside the room. Calmly, he took out a small knife he had hidden in his coat pocket and took a step inside.

Again, a noise erupted from the darkness. Raoul could hardly make out any words coming from the unknown source, but didn't have to wait long until he found out the origin of the sound. A candle sprung up suddenly from the shadows and Raoul could easily see the form of a woman bent over a desk. Carefully, he replaced the knife.

"Christine?" As soon as he spoke, that the light was put out shortly after a high pitched shriek. He reached into his pocket again for his knife but was stopped as a candle was lighted once again, but this time close by his face. Besides the candle, a small face with wide eyes was staring at him. The face broke out into a smile as the candle floated away. Others soon started to appear.

"Thank God; it's just you Raoul," the female said, giggling. She turned to look at her, only to receive Raoul's glare. "Vicomte. I'm sorry," she corrected, turning back to finish off the lighting. "I thought you were the Phantom. Everyone's after him, you know," she said nonchalantly, "I heard that Miss Daaé has already been killed. That's it's only a matter of time until everyone finds her body."

"Shut up!" Raoul snapped, causing the woman to immediately stop any movement. "What's your name, anyways? What makes you think you have the right to come into someone's room?"

"Well, that someone is supposedly dead…"

"Answer the question!" Raoul shouted, causing the girl to flinch slightly.

"Felicity. My name's Felicity," she answered. "And I'm in Miss Daaé's room because there are some things I could use in here for my story."

Raoul continued to look at the girl strangely as she turned around and walked up to Christine's desk, opening up a box full of letters.

"Your story…? Hey…Hey! That's Christine's property, stay out of there!" Raoul ordered, walking briskly up to Felicity. Grabbing her hand, he yanked it away from the container, glaring at the hand as it held a few of the papers. Taking them away from her, he threw them onto the desk. "Now, tell me right now what you think you're doing."

"I'm investigating," she replied honestly, her large, exaggerated eyes appearing larger from the flickering light as the hazel color seemed to reflect off them. She silently waited for his reply, then continued onward when there was no words spoken. "I'm trying to figure out why Christine disappeared, where she went, and possibly even why the Phantom decided to take her!" she explained excitedly.

"There's nothing to investigate. She's gone by her _supposed_ own will with the Phantom. Where she went; she's probably out of this city by now. And why Erik took her…" Raoul trailed off as hatred slowly began to consume him once again. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Felicity take out a notebook and grabbed a pencil hidden somewhere in her short, light brown hair. Quickly, she began scribbling notes.

"So the Phantom's name is Erik?" she asked. Raoul turned to once again glare at her.

"Do you think I care about your stupid little questions? Go away! A chorus girl doesn't belong in this room." Felicity was quiet, her pencil had stopped moving as well.

"Christine was once a chorus girl too. Dancer, really, but who's counting?" she asked as she replaced her items and went back to searching through the letter box once more. Her explorations were cut short as another familiar person walked into the brightly lit room.

"_What_ are you doing! Snooping in someone else's room!" Sorelli yelled out angrily. Felicity shot up like a bottle rocket. Her back was rigid and straight, and she kept looking forward, obviously too scared to turn around.

"I-I'm not, m-madame," she stammered, obviously flustered. Sorelli raised her eyebrows in question as she noticed Raoul in the room as well.

"Oh really? Then what exactly were you doing?"

"I-I was, uh…" Felicity began, her eyes darting around the room. Her cheeks turned a bright red as she slowly turned around to face Sorelli, standing beside Raoul. "Madame Giry, I was meeting with Raoul."

"Oh really?"

"Yes! We were going to…" her eyes darted in Raoul's direction, "to run away together and get married!"

"_Really_?" Sorelli said, still looking at her disbelievingly. Felicity smiled slightly as she reached out her hand and took Raoul's in hers. He desperately tried to shrug her off, but she just instead latched herself closer to him.

"Yes. We were hoping to kept it a secret, but now it's obviously far too—"

"Oh, stop it! You were always able to tell the biggest lies in the entire group!" the older woman exclaimed furiously. Sorelli carefully looked at the girl. "Who are you again?"

"I'm Felicity. I'm one of your dancing students, madame."

"I remember you," Sorelli said, her head nodding, "you were never as committed as any of the other dancers." Felicity's once calm face quickly turned agitated.

"Maybe it's because I didn't want to do this!" Felicity yelled suddenly. "I wanted to work in the newspaper. I wanted to write stories and articles for crimes, but my _mother_ thought otherwise!"

Sorelli let out a sigh, "Yes, it's sad when parents force their children into this line of work. A waste of time for us all." The younger woman dropped Raoul's arm as she glued her arms next to her sides. "Also, that's a rather bold statement for a girl of your age…"

"I'm sixteen! I'm not a girl, I'm an adult who can live her own life and make her own decisions!" Felicity yelled. In a furious rage, she stormed out of the room, but not before she threw the letters in her hands on the ground in front of Sorelli.

* * *

Christine awoke the next morning to an empty bedside. Groggily, she managed to sit up and stare at the empty space, unable to think clearly on what it meant.

"Erik…" she called out slightly. When no one came into the room, she got out of the bed. Searching through the surrounding area, she found the bag of clothes Erik had left and quickly opened it. By the time she stepped past the curtain, she had changed into a light blue gown and a see-through wrap draped around her delicate frame. As she stepped out of the bedroom, she was relieved to see her beloved sitting at the organ, feverishly writing on a blank music sheet.

"Erik?" she called out once again as she walked closer to him. The man lifted his head, staring at her before he stood up to face her.

"You look beautiful, Christine," he breathed, his gaze moving throughout her body. A slight blush creep into her cheeks as she walked the rest of the distance up to him.

"Thank you," she muttered, feeling slightly awkward, although she didn't know why. Erik noticed and reached out his hand to rest against her face.

"You've no reason to worry. I won't hurt you," he said as he let his hand drop and returned to his work. Christine stood silent, watching him carefully, then moved so she was standing beside him.

"You came back late last night," she stated as she watched the music notes appear onto the white paper.

"I had to go and get your clothes, Christine," he replied, not looking up.

"I know, but still…" She sat on the edge of the chair, gazing at him from the corners of her eyes, "you didn't say goodbye."

"You were asleep, I wasn't going to wake you up," he explained. A strained silence passed as Christine continued to stare at the words that were appearing.

"I was just worried...and I heard what you said too," she whispered, smiling slightly at the memory of his words. He stopped writing as he turned up to look at her. Gazing lovingly into his eyes, Christine held his face in her hands and brought her lips to his.

Erik flew into an internal shock as Christine kissed him. Was his mask on? Why was she doing this? Was it too soon? Was it too late? His mind continued to fly as Christine parted from him and stared up at him.

"What's wrong? Are you okay?" she asked, putting her hand up against his forehead. "You feel warm…" she muttered as she leaned closer to him. In return, Erik panicked and attempted to move away from Christine. "Hold still, Erik! I'm not going to hurt you!" Christine cried out as he kept trying to push away. The struggle kept up until finally Erik tumbled over the side of the chair with Christine following closely after.

Erik landed onto the floor, his head the first thing to hit it, then had Christine land square on his stomach shortly after. "Why did you do that?" he demanded, rubbing his throbbing head as Christine lifted herself up.

"I did nothing! You were the one that freaked out!" she retaliated as she managed to regain her composure. Turning to face Erik, she saw that he was refusing to look at her. "Erik…" she said, her voice soft as she moved closer to him. As she stared at his embarrassed face, she realized just how much what she had done could have possibly scared him. He had hardly had any person to love him, much less him love another.

Slowly, making sure she would know where he would be comfortable with her, she inched closer to him until she was sitting beside him. "Erik? I'm sorry," she whispered faintly. When no reply came, she ventured further, resting her head against his chest once again. Sneaking a glimpse at his face, she was easily able to see the off-white of his mask hiding the right-side of his face. "Erik…?"

"No Christine, I'm sorry," Erik said as he placed his gloved hand on her shoulder. He was silent for a moment, and Christine thought that he had decided not to speak any more, but he shortly continued on. "It's just…I get so nervous…around you," he mumbled, "and I'm scared that I might do something…that'll scare you off and make you hate me." Christine looked at him with a saddened face as she reached out her hand and took his mask off. He nearly broke down into tears as she just smiled at him, not even flinching. Only showing undying love.

"You could never do that. I love you, Erik." Christine stretched her neck out, her face once again moving closer to his. This time, he didn't flinch away.

"I love you too," he responded as he smiled slightly. He closed the remaining gap between them, connecting their lips together in a heated kiss.

Neither of them could possibly felt happier.

* * *

E: Erik feels better now *smiles*

C: That's wonderful, Erik. Could you please not talk in third person?

E: Erik will talk in first person if Erik wants to…

C: Well maybe Christine doesn't want our viewers to think Erik is crazy…

E: Maybe Erik doesn't care what our viewers think because Erik is his own man!

C: *sighs* We had forgot to mention this earlier, but we also have _another_ co-author. We had a total of three people helping write the role-play that created this story. He is the only male that helped create it and he is the person that 'plays' Carlotta, the managers, and Raoul.

E: Which is why Erik refuses to let him onto _his_ story.

C: So he might show up for special guest features.

E: Erik gives hugs! If you know what I'm talking about then it's for you. *gives sexy smile*

C: Quit flirting with that girl you don't even know. What about me? I thought you were a girl?

E: Erik isn't a girl when he is Erik, Erik is a man. Erik isn't flirting either! He is being friendly. And Erik loves you don't worry. *winks* Thank you everyone who reads and/or reviews this story! It is with your contributions that make Erik want to continue it onward!

C: Erik has been incredibly happy since he's learned that he got 130 hits on his story…even though he has no idea what that means.

E: Estonia! Singapore! Germany! Italy! Where is my own country! France, where are you!

C: Thank you for reading! We hope to see everyone and more next chapter.

E: Don't forget to review!


	4. Silent Pleas

E: Chapter Four. Chapter Four. Wonderful, wonderful, Chapter Four. Erik is so wonderful and brilliant and oh so handsome! *smiles*

C: Would you please stop it? You're almost worse than Raoul.

E: _Never_ say that! Never speak that _horrid_ name.

C: Raoul?

E: *cringes slightly* If you love me you will stop…

C: *smiles* Maybe I do maybe I don't.

E: I swear to God if you say that name one more time I will be forced to—

C: Ladies and gentlemen we have a special guest. You all know her from the last chapter. Please help me welcome…Felicity!

E: Get that little pest out of my story _right now_!

C: You created her in the role-play so hush up! *turns to Felicity, who is staring in awe at Erik* So, Felicity, what made you decide to chase down the story of the Phantom?

F: H-He's here. Right in front of me…

E: No, I'm not the Phantom.

F: Then who are you?

E: …Flo…from the Progressive Insurance commercials…

C: …

F: …

E: Oh, real quick, Christine might seem like a real _w_itch in this chapter, but it is just so 'story Erik' will learn an important lesson that will bring on future events.

C: Oh? Thank you so much for doing that. I feel so _loved_.

E: Everyone please enjoy Chapter Four! I worked hard on it so make Erik proud by reading it all the way through!

* * *

Roses of Life

* * *

"Do you want to start a family, Erik?" Christine had asked him two hours ago. The question stayed in his mind; he had never thought of the idea before. A family, children, all those things never bothered to come forth in his thoughts. Mainly because he thought that he would never be given the chance.

Christine had waited the last two hours faithfully for his answer but still arrived at none. She assumed that he was still processing it as he stood before his instrument. "Erik?" she said, her eyes heavy as she walked up to him. "I'm going to go and sleep some more. I'm absolutely exhausted." Erik turned to face her, reaching out his hand for hers once again. Christine had noticed the habit immediately. It seemed that every time he wanted to talk to her he had to hold onto her in some way, almost as if he was terrified she would leave.

"That's fine, Christine. I have to go out for awhile anyways. Stay here, be safe. Don't leave this room," he warned as he reached forward and lightly kissed her cheek. He turned to go but was stopped by her.

"Why do you never kiss me?" Christine asked sadly. Erik stopped, starting to hate all the questions Christine asked him that had started to make him think the way he was thinking now.

"I do kiss you," he stated, leaning forward once again and giving her a peck on the same cheek, "see?"

"That's not a real kiss Erik," Christine lectured slightly as she moved closer to him. Erik began to panic, but only slightly. The past week living with her had proven to him more trouble than he was able to handle. Already twice in that entire span of time she had begged him to take her somewhere outside, but both times he had refused to take her anywhere outside of the safeness of the room.

"Yes it is. A kiss is a kiss, Christine."

"And why do you always have to call me by my name? Why can't you call me something else, like 'dear' or 'love'?" This time Erik was unable to come up with a reasonable excuse.

"I thought you were exhausted," he stated plainly. Christine frowned, annoyed that he was trying to avoid her questions.

"Fine, have a nice time outside while I rot in this god-forsaken room by _myself_. Go ahead and enjoy yourself," she snapped at him as she turned heel and stormed into the bedroom before falling, worn out, onto the welcoming bed. She normally wouldn't act or response to him in such a way, but she was growing tired of his continuing distance from her as she tried to get closer to him.

Erik sighed as he turned towards the door once again and left the room. He felt bad for leaving her the way she was, but he had no choice in the matter. What was done was over and done with. Moving silently with haunting thoughts, he walked further down the damp corridor in the opposite direction of the opera house. What he needed was peace and quiet, and he knew exactly where to go to get it.

It was nearly half an hour later until he finally arrived at his destination. The setting sun nearly blinded his eyes as he stepped out of the tunnel and out into the open air. A giant field was spread out before him in rolling grass. A lake with a dock sat in the middle of it with a small house placed close by it. Slowly, he made his way towards the house until he finally arrived at it and opened it's well-oiled door. The room was dark, but he was easily able to light the lamps and sit down in the lush chairs set close to the fire which he had already lit earlier. Digging into the pockets of his vest, he took out a small, familiar book and gazed lovingly at the dark ribbon with the 'C'.

Erik could easily remember how excited Christine was when he had given her back her diary. Her face had lit up with what he could only guess was a heavenly light as she held the possession close to her chest. Occasionally he had seen her write in it to pass the sluggish hours. He felt bad for stealing it, and even worse knowing full well that he was going to read through it's pages, but ever since they had their first argument a few days ago he had become extremely worried.

She had confronted him about how she hated that she was never able to come out and he had simply dismissed her. In a fit of rage, she had grabbed his music sheets and threw them to the ground, her eyes threatening to spill tears. Erik, in return, began to shout out her and Christine began to run towards the bed room for sanctuary. He had stopped her, violently grabbing her wrist and forcing her to face him. More shouting continued on and finally ended with Erik slapping her and Christine crying herself to sleep.

The memory of the vicious night had haunted him, causing him to sink into a horrible depression and find safe haven in his music. In response more fights ensue the next day as Christine was not only terrified but felt alone and unloved at his increasing isolation from her.

Forcing himself into the present, he shook the memories away as he opened the pages of the tome. All guilt had by then drained from his system as he scanned earlier entries. They mostly consisted of the day's victories and failures as well as the occasional appearance of himself in his persona. As he got closer to the current date, he began to see more and more of Raoul's name appearing in the journal. 'Phantom' also began to appear more often.

Finally he arrived at the date of five days ago:

_I don't know what to think at this point. It has been three days since I have been with Erik and still I am trapped in this horrible place. I know he means well, but what good will this do either of us? Staying here, living in constant fear. Is it worth it? Have I made the wrong choice by going with him? I'm starting to rethink everything, and I'm sure he wouldn't be happy about it._

Two days later, on the day of the fight:

_I hate him! I hate Erik! I hate everything that's ever happened to me! Why did this happen? It was an innocent enough question. This man is not the same man that I fell in love with. This man is a horrid person who deserves the loneliness he gives himself! I try so hard to get close to him, and it's all for naught! I should just give up, what is even the use anymore. I should have gone with Raoul._

Erik's heart began to sink in his chest.

_I would have found a way for both of us to escape. Raoul would have never treated me this way. He would love me and not keep me locked up like a cage bird! He would listen to me and not drown himself in music! Does Erik even care about what I want, what my hopes and dreams are? Raoul would listen to me, I know he would. I miss him, so much. I miss being called Little Lotte and being held in his arms. I'm thinking of running away. Somehow, when he's asleep, I'll escape and run to Raoul. I wonder if he still misses me, if he still loves me. Anything, at this point, is better than where I am._

Erik had to close the book, his chest in unbearable pain after reading the words. He closed his eyes tightly, feeling tears begin to form. Lifting a hand, he lightly touched the water.

"…Tears?" he questioned himself as he stared at it. Still staring, he felt hot water fall down on the marred side of his face. "What have I done?" he asked himself, the words crashing down onto his already heavy heart like a ton of bricks. Closing the book, he replaced it and strode out of the room into the field once again, the night sky looking like a deep wound with clouds covering the bright stars.

It didn't take long until he arrived back into the room, the silence nearly killing him. His mind flashed to the comment of running away he had read and he immediately rushed to the closed curtain.

Pushing it aside, he was easily able to spot his beloved's sleeping form spread out on the bed. Shocked, he slowly walked up to her and sat down next to her on the side of the bed, placing his hand gently on the side of her face. "Maybe I didn't hold you all those lonely, lonely times... I guess I never told you I'm so happy that you're mine..." he sang softly to her, taking bits of the lullaby out as he watched her sleep soundlessly, noticing the places on her faces where tears had stained.

Suddenly, Christine's eyes fluttered open as the short song came to end and she looked up to him. "Did I wake you?" Erik asked.

"Yes, but it's okay," she whispered sleepily. Erik leaned forward, placing his head into the crook of her neck as he wrapped his arms tightly around her. It wasn't long until she did the same with him as he lifted her up, sitting her on his lap as he continued to hug her tightly.

"I'm so sorry, dear," he whispered into her neck. He could feel her grasp on him tighten as he continued to hold her close.

"I'm sorry too. I've been so careless."

"No," he said, lifting his head to look at her face to face, "I've been a fool. I think I can just keep you locked up and not give you any attention and that you'll just stay with me. I know now that what I did was wrong." Christine smiled at his words as she rested her head against his chest, but was gently stopped as he took her off his lap and got off the bed. Wordlessly, she watched as he went from standing to kneeling on one knee, taking her hand in his. "Christine. I don't deserve anything like this. You're so beautiful and so loving even with how I've been acting."

"Erik, what are you asking?" Christine questioned as her breath began to catch in her throat.

"Christine, I love you. More than I could possibly imagine. I know that I somewhat…forced you into this some time ago, but now I want to ask you and have you answer of your own free will. Christine...my love...will you marry me?" Tears once again began to well in her brown eyes, but out of joy instead of pain and fury. Her heart felt like it was about to burst with happiness as she got up from the bed as well and sat down next to Erik on the ground.

"Of course, Erik," she replied joyfully. Embracing him, she held him tightly as she kissed the right of his face, unable to contain her joy. "I love you, so much."

"I do too, Christine. I'm so sorry...for everything," Erik said, parting slightly so he gazed into her stunning brown eyes. "Could you ever forgive me? For all the stupid things I've done?"

"Of course I can. Oh my god, Erik I'm so happy," she stated. Again he embraced her as she began to cry into his shirt, unable to keep her emotions bottled up anymore. Reaching his hand out under her chin, he lifted her head and kissed her passionately, only breaking apart as his breath became sparse.

"I love you."

* * *

E: I feel like I made this into a total soap opera! Where is the humor I promised?

C: It's just fine, Erik. You wrote it anyways so don't complain. Besides, we are the humor, for now at least.

E: *sigh* Fine, you win…once again. Oh! For the several bits of sentences in this chapter, I want no sexual comments!

C: Are you quite through yet?

E: Far from it dear. Everyone! I call upon my thousands of followers.

C: He only wishes.

E: And I would like to thank every single one of you for reading!

C: Erik has a question, doesn't he…?

E: Oh yes! Everyone, Erik has a question! He wants to know what the difference is between hits and visitors? Because when he looked the last time he had 265 hits but only about 106 visitors so he must know because 265 is a lot better than 106.

C: And that's about it. Sorry for anyone who was looking forward to reading about Raoul or anyone else, but this was specifically for E/C development.

E: Hope you enjoyed the chapter!

C: Please review everyone!

E: It makes Erik very happy! *smiles*

C: See you all next chapter.


	5. New Sights and Mistakes

C: We've gone a long way in this story…well not really but Erik has been excited about it ever since the first chapter.

E: -is sitting in corner of the room writing on a notepad and mumbling to self-

C: Erik…what are you doing?

E: It's a conspiracy, Christine. Its all right there, corrupting the minds of innocent Phantom-watchers everywhere.

C: What's a conspiracy dear?

E: Beauty and the Beast. It's a goddamn conspiracy! The whole movie is corrupted!

C: …I'm going to regret this later, why is it a conspiracy?

E: Have you seen the movie! Christine…I mean Belle, she falls in love with Erik…the beast…which is me…_What the fuck! I'm going to kill this movie!_

C: Okay, okay…Erik? Erik, just calm down. Just breathe…

E: No! I will _not_ calm down! I'm not even done with the whole thing…

C: Well when you've calmed down enough and lower that temper of yours you can continue onward.

E: Okay…okay, I'm calm. –glances at Christine- okay, so back to the conversation. The beast gets killed in the end…well not really but-

C: We get the point Erik, continue on.

E: Anyways, Belle basically tells him that she loves him and he magically transforms into this _supposedly_ beautiful person who just so _happens_ to look like that sissy boy who tried to take you from _me!_

C: You mean Raoul?

E: The point is that Christine ends up with Raoul while Erik is forgotten as Raoul's former form!

C: …Erik?

E: Yes?

C: That makes absolutely no sense. Everyone, please enjoy Chapter Five. Just ignore Erik's ramblings for awhile, he's sick and isn't thinking right.

* * *

Roses of Life

* * *

A rose. A single red rose, resting on the empty, cold space beside where Christine slept. Minutes earlier she had awoken to the space and a note beside it.

'Dear Christine. I'm sorry that I'm not here as you're reading this letter, but I had a meeting with a certain person that I was unable to change. I won't be gone long, and when I return I plan on taking you outside to show you something I think you'll enjoy greatly. I had gone out earlier to bring you something to keep you entertained until then. The books that you will find on the table in the other room are the latest that came out and I think that you will find them a pleasure to read. With love, Erik.'

Christine smiled as she scanned the letter. Excitement rose inside her as she began to think of where he was planning to take her. Placing the letter back down, she picked up the rose and walked past the curtain into the main section, instantly noticing two books stacked on the table close to Erik's organ.

Ignoring them, she sat instead on the chair facing the ivories and gently closed her eyes, lifting a single finger and softly pressing it against one of the keys, causing a musical note to vibrate in the room. The note was light, airy, as her mind swam with thoughts. Again, she pressed another key, this time letting her voice join along.

Slowly, she stopped and opened her eyes and gazed at the rose still being held in her other hand. The thorns had all been taken off the stem and she could tell that it was freshly picked. She wondered where he could have gotten the red flower.

Rapidly, she was filled with a sense of loneliness with Erik's absence. Her gaze rested onto the ivory keys as she thought of where her love could possibly be.

* * *

Erik tightened the cloth wrapped around his face as more people continued to pass by him. The winter's air was freezing and every blast of wind felt like hot needles against his skin. A bell close to him would ring occasionally as more people walked in and out of the pub a mere few feet away from him.

"Where the hell is she?" he muttered under his breath as he placed a hand on the top of his hat and lowered the rim of it. He wasn't going to risk getting seen, and if Sorelli didn't show up soon then he was going to return back to Christine and take her out as he had promised. Again he fell into a silence with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company until he saw a woman start walking down the street. She was carrying a basket of flowers and was walking up to other people on the street, offering them for money.

Silently, she watched her as she continued traveling from person to person, so far unsuccessful with a sale. Digging into his pocket, he walked up to her and held out the money to her. "Do you have a rose?" he asked as she took the money from him. Smiling, she nodded and reached her hand into the basket before taking out what he had asked for.

Studying the rose as she left, he began to absentmindedly taking off the thorns from the stem as he gazed at the petals. They were white.

"Erik?" a voice called out to him. Lifting his head, he noticed Sorelli walking towards him. "You are going to catch your death out here! I told you to wait inside for me," she lectured as she placed a hand on his back as she led him inside.

"I don't like it in there by myself, you know that," he replied calmly as he glanced through the empty pub and walked to the table furthest from prying eyes.

"You are impossible at times," she said as she watched Erik take off his hat and place it on the table.

"Spare me," he said, smiling slightly as a glass was placed in front of him. He muttered a thanks under his breath as he tightened the scarf around his face once again. When the server left, he placed both his hands on the table. "I'm going to take her there later today. Winter's nearly over so she deserves to start getting out more," he said to the woman sitting across him.

"I'm sure she'll love it. You've probably kept her locked up for awhile now. Not to mention that place is absolutely _beautiful._"

"You know it was for her own good. She would have been found out," he explained, wrapping a hand around the glass. "I proposed to her too."

"_No_?!" Sorelli teased. Erik smirked slightly as he took a sip from the glass.

"Yes. I expect you to show up sometime soon. I'm sure Christine would like to see you again, seeing as you raised her."

"Of course. I'll come over to see the both of you soon as this horrid winter breaks," she said. Erik glanced up towards a large grandfather clock placed close to the table and stood quickly.

"I should get going. I need to get back soon."

"Of course, naturally," Sorelli smiled as she reached down under that table and picked up a large blanket with a cloth covering the top. "Here some things for her that should make her more comfortable. And I already restocked the food in the house. I still think you should start a garden there so you don't have to worry about running out," she whispered before standing up. Erik picked up the rose he had gotten earlier and placed it in the basket as well.

"Sorry to leave you so soon," he muttered before grabbing his hat and placed it back on his head. "I hope to see you soon again. Goodbye, and thanks."

* * *

Meg traveled through the snowing city, gazing down at a piece of paper that was left at the door to her room as well as a letter from Raoul. In it he talked about how he wished to see her that day and she was worried that he was spiraling into a depression since Christine had left. Maybe he felt safe with her, him knowing that she was so close to Christine.

It wasn't long until she arrived at his large home. Walking up to the door, she found it was opened and entered inside. The place seemed silent, uncomfortably so. Footsteps echoing each time they hit the polished floor, Meg soon confronted one of the maids.

"Excuse me?" she asked, tapping the woman's shoulder. "I'm sorry, but have you seen Monsieur Raoul?"

"You mean the Victome? Monsieur Chagney is in his room. He's been sulking all day for some reason," she answered before walking off in another direction. Standing hushed for awhile, she turned and began walking up the stairs, assuming Raoul's bedroom would be located somewhere up there.

"Good luck, ma'am. He's locked the door," another maid said to Meg as she walked down the hall. "Surprised he even bothered to send another girl from that whore house again," the maid muttered, the sentenced barely spoken but enough for Meg to her. Not understanding what the woman meant, she continued down the hall until she arrived at the last door down the elegant hallway. Grabbing the knob, she twisted it and realized that it was locked.

"Raoul! Open this door right now!" she said, raising her voice slightly. Waiting, she heard movement on the inside until a small voice finally replied.

"What happened?"

"According to what I've heard, you fell asleep while crying your eyes out last night over Christine, now open _up_!" Another silence passed before Meg heard a rattling then watched as the knob turned then the wooden door opened. Raoul stood before her, his gaze unfocused. She also noticed the scent of strong liquor on his breath and he stumbled slightly as he walked out of the room and up to her. It didn't take a genius to figure out what had happened to the man before her: he was drunk.

"Ah, good to see you," he said happily, swaying slightly where he stood. Meg couldn't help but roll her eyes, it figured that Raoul would do something like this.

"You're drunk, Raoul. You should lay– "

"Are not!" he shouted at her loudly. "Just a little bit…dizzy." Meg scrunched up her nose as he leaned slightly towards her, able to easily smell the alcohol.

"I'm right here, Raoul. There is no need to shout."

"Really?" he asked, clearly confused. "You look _really_ far away." Reaching out his hand blindly, he felt Meg's soft skin on his and felt a familiar sense spread through his body. Meg glanced down slightly, noticing that his hand moved from her neck down to her breast. Slightly, she stepped back from him.

"Yeah, you're drunk."

"And what are _you_ going to do about it, Christine?" he demanded, stepping forward once again and lightly pushing her shoulder.

"I'm Meg…"

"What's that you say?" he asked, blowing his long hair out of his face. Reaching out his hand again, he began to slowly feel her face. Meg couldn't help but smirk, an idea forming inside her as she followed him inside.

"I love Erik _so _much more than you, Raoul," she said, pretending that she was Christine. Watching as Raoul lost his footing, he fell to his knees and began to cry.

"But…but…but," Raoul said between sobs, "I th-thought w-w-we had s-something special!"

"You were wrong," she stated in reply. Suddenly, Raoul stood and walked over to a dresser and rummaged through one of the drawers. Taking out a knife from the small container, he started walking around outside the room.

"Where is he? I'm going to kill him!" he repeated over and over again as he continued looking for something that wasn't there.

"Raoul, don't. No one even knows where they are," Meg stated. Suddenly, Raoul began to start bawling like a two-year-old child who just had his favorite toy stolen.

"I miss her, Mama! Bring her back Mommy! Please!" he begged, yelling at Meg.

"I can't!"

"Why not? Why not!?" he demanded, walking back up to her and grabbing her shoulders with his hands.

"She left you, that's why!" Meg shouted.

"Why did she leave Mommy? Why!"

"I don't know why!"

"But she said she loved me!" he screamed, before falling to the floor, howling with misery and rage. Meg let out an exhausted sigh.

"Well, the Opera Ghost has gone away and stolen her heart. So too bad," she muttered as she helped him stand up. "Come on you great, useless thing."

"What now?" Raoul asked in a childish voice.

"You have to get ready," she replied, her temper shortening.

"Are you ready for me, pretty lady?" he asked, his tone changing drastically. Meg's eyebrows raised in surprised.

"What?"

"I think you know _exactly _what I mean, you _bad girl_," Raoul said, trying to make his voice sound seductive. Again, she couldn't help but roll her eyes at his statement, not feeling any danger from him.

"Sure I do." Falling quiet, she watched as Raoul stumbled past her and past another door in his room near the back.

"Join me…if you want…" he muttered before disappearing behind the door. Meg stood in the same spot, deciding whether to follow him or not. Making up her mind, she reached into a nearby cabinet and took out to bottles of wine and began walking towards the door. She was worried for Raoul and didn't want him hurting himself, but if she was to survive the evening she was going to need a little help.

* * *

Christine walked around excitedly as Erik began walking around the makeshift home. He had returned awhile ago and now she was patiently waiting to go outside, like he had promised her.

"Ready to go, Christine?" he asked, finally taking his mask and placing his over his face. Christine let out a squeal as she ran up to him and hugged him tightly.

"Yes! Yes! I'm ready, let's go!" she said as he smiled kindly at her. Unlocking her arms from around his neck, he placed them instead in his hands and finally led her outside of the cavern for the first time in weeks. The darkness seemed familiar to her as she started moving along beside him.

"Close your eyes," Erik whispered to her. Smiling, Christine turned to face him.

"It's already dark, though."

"Just do that for me, please?" he asked, smiling still at her until she finally complied. Waiting awhile, she stood still until she felt a bright light hit her closed lids, causing her to flinch slightly. A cool breeze hit her naked face as she could hear distance chirping surrounding her. "Okay, you can open your eyes now."

Christine was not prepared for what she was about to see. A beautiful scene stood out before here in the bright sunlight. A large valley stood out surrounded by snow-covered forest. Somehow, amazingly, the entire field was filled with wild flowers in full bloom. Light reflected off of a glass-like lake set in the middle of the field and a large house that laid close by it with a great oak tree growing by the lake side.

"Oh my God," she breathed, bringing her hand to her mouth as she stared, "it's so…beautiful Erik." Turning to him, she held both his hands in hers. "Where did you find this place? It's so…amazing."

"I found it, walking around one day," he replied as he started leading her into the valley. Christine turned and gazed at the entrance to the tunnel back to the place they were last. The opening was in the face of what seemed like a large rock. "The field is like this almost all year long. In spring, summer, and the beginning of fall it's nice and warm. Fall to mid-winter is slightly cold but everything is still alive. When it snows, it covers the place and it looks so _wonderful_ Christine."

"Where did the house come from?" she asked as they finally made it down to the bottom. They were close by the lake and it looked so welcoming to her, almost as if she could slip in and live in it forever.

"I built it myself. Took me years but I did it. You think that I wanted to live in that cave for the rest of my life?" Erik teased, yanking Christine out of her daydream. Smiling back at him, she continued to follow him until they finally arrived at the house. Together, they walked inside and into the welcoming room. It was a large family room that they entered, the fire in the pit out but the room still warm. Out of the corner of the protruding walls Christine could spot and kitchen and she could only guess what laid further down the hall.

"Oh, Erik…" she said dreamily as she looked around the room, "it's _perfect_."

"Are you happy here?" he asked, moving closer to her as he hesitantly placed his hand on her waist.

"I wish we could never leave," she whispered, turning to face him as she rested her head on his chest. "Please don't make me leave."

"We can move in, whenever you want. Just say the word." Christine broke out into a huge grin and she hugged him tightly to her. Erik guessed that she wanted to move in as soon as physically possible.

"Can you show me more of the house?" Christine asked, finally separating herself slightly from him. Nodding in agreement, he led her further into the house, down the hallway she had seen earlier and into a simple bedroom.

"I have a back portion of the house that I'm not finished with yet, but we can stay in the guest's bedroom until it's done," he explained as she gazed at the room happily. Suddenly, she walked past him to explore on her own. Seeing only one other door in the hallway, she opened in and saw what seemed like another complete hallway.

"I don't understand…what's left to finish?" she questioned, clearly confused.

"The house itself is finished, but I need to get some more furniture and such," Erik explained as he arrived behind her. Christine stood mute for some time until Erik finally spoke. "Do you remember that question you asked me? About having children?"

"Yeah. I also remember that you still haven't answered me either," she retorted playfully, turning her head to look at him. "Why?"

"Well…I've been thinking about it, and I've come to a decision…" As he had been talking, Erik was also slowly leading her to one door near the end of the hall and opened the door to it. Turning her head back to where she was looking in front of her, she looked into the room and gasped. Inside was a small nursery. Stuffed animals lined the shelves of the soft-colored walls. They were painted a light shaded of green and yellow and all the furniture contained inside was stark-white. The crib was placed in the corner next to two windows, one of the curtains hanging from the glass billowing slightly from the light breeze coming in. A rocking chair was sitting close to the crib.

"You want a baby?" she asked dreamily, floating over to the chair and sitting comfortably down. Laying her head back, her fingers grazed over the wood as she thought of the idea. A child, one that belonged to both of them and watching it grow up. It was something that caused her to fill with both happiness and need for it.

"Not just a baby, love," Erik said, walking up to her as he knelt down to where he was at her height, "a family. You and us together and having a child that we can both raise together. I want something like that." Christine could hardly contain her joy, it was almost like he wanted just what she did too.

"Well, Erik, then we should get started," she said, her voice lowering as she stood up. Helping him rise with her, she slowly began to get closer to him, rubbing her body against him. "It's going to take a lot of work you know."

Erik smiled down at her, bringing his hand up to her face. Slowly he ran his fingers through her hair. "What would you like, dear?"

"Make love to me, Erik," she whispered to him. Her eyelids grew heavy, causing her to only keep her eyes half open as she stared at him before removing first his cape then his coat from his body. Gazing down at his well built frame, lust filled her eyes as she brought her hands up to his chest and slowly began to unbutton his vest. "Oh god, Erik. I need you so badly."

"I do too," he replied seductively as he pushed her up against the nearby wall. One hand rested on her waist while the other took off the coat she wore over her dress. Bringing his lips down to hers, he kissed her fiercely as her small fingers finally managed to remove his vest from his body.

Erik suddenly felt cold air hit the side of his face and, without even thinking about what he was doing, began to panic. Christine dropped his mask suddenly as he back away quickly. She could tell that she had crossed an invisible line.

"Erik? Erik I'm sorry," she said as she bent down to him, worried that he was going to hate her. Managing to find his mask, he placed it back on his face then sat in silence, his breathing heavy. "Erik?"

"I'm…I'm scared…" he admitted, his voice soft and low. "I've never exactly…done that before."

"But…but I thought you-"

"Yes, I used prostitutes, but it was just to…you know. I've never done it with someone I actually care about. And my mask…" Christine couldn't repress the small smile that crept onto her face as she held his hand.

"I love you, Erik. And you love me. I'm not scared of how you look, and you have nothing to be scared of," she said soothingly as she sat on her knees next to him. She knew herself that she was scared about it too, never having done it before, but she knew it was something that they _both _wanted.

Slowly, she reached forward and gently took off his mask. Erik didn't flinched, but stared at her, confused, as she reached behind her and began to untie the ribbon that held her dress together. When she managed to accomplish her task, she reached up with shaky hands and lowered the top of her dress. Erik couldn't help but let his line of vision fall down her body. A slight blush slipped into her cheeks as she glanced away.

"I don't want to hurt you… I know it hurts for women…" he whispered softly. Christine ignored him and forced herself to move closer to him. Taking his hand, she lifted it up and placed it on her breast.

"Please, Erik. I won't mind, I promise. I _want_ this." Erik watched as she leaned into him, closing her eyes as she felt his touch on her skin.

"Then we had better go somewhere else," Erik said after a short silence because of his careful exploring. Helping her stand up, he brought her to their shared bedroom and closed the door.

He still couldn't believe he was about to do what he was going to.

* * *

E: Long…ass…chapter. Holy crap, ten pages on the word. –passes out-

C: Erik works very hard on this story, Christine is proud of Erik for wasting his free time. –puts smelling salts under nose-

E: -wakes up- Erik would like to thank everyone who reads and/or reviews! Can't wait to see everyone next chapter!

C: Please, _please_ review. We both enjoy reading all the things people have to say about our story. Whether they be good or bad.

E: Tune in next chapter! Will Meg fall for Raoul's deception? Will Carlotta finally show up? _Will Christine and Erik finally commit the deed?!_

C: You make it sound so…bad…

E: I know, don't you love it?

C: See everyone next chapter! We're having a special guest come over –smiles-

E: Not…you wouldn't dare…

C: You'll have to wait and see. Goodbye everyone! We'll update the next chapter as soon as physically possible.


	6. Different Views

E: Erik is sorry. Erik is so very, very sorry…

R: And why are you sorry asshole?

E: I'm apologizing to my audience for having to listen to that bullshit you call talking!

C: Both of you! Quit acting like children! You're both grown men, are you not?!

E: …he started it…

C: -glares- Do _not_ start. Don't _even_ start this.

E: -glares at Raoul-

C: Now will you play nice?

E: …yes.

C: Okay then. Now Raoul, we have some questions and we're wondering if you could answer them?

R: I'll answer whatever question you have to ask, Christine. Whether it be of interview matters or… -glances down to chest- others…

E: Watch it, you. If you aren't careful you're going to be finding yourself waking up the next morning with no hands, your guts spread out around the room, and that girly hair of yours all gone.

C: Erik… -smiles at Raoul- So, please explain in your own words what had caused you to behave such a way with Meg?

R: Well, I was clearly…-coughs- having trouble.

E: You were _drunk_. You cannot make yourself seem like a hero with that on your head.

R: And I was at a weak time in my life-

E: So you were drunk as well as lonely because your supposed love left you for _me_.

R: And Meg happened to be there for me-

E: And to top it all off he was _horny_!

C: _Erik_!

E: All I did, Christine, was repeat what he had said…

R: It's okay Christine –smiles kindly- it doesn't matter what he says to me.

E: And why's that?

R: Because I know that I can at the very least get any girl to lay with me and I shall have this unholy striking physique as well as gorgeous face forever and all eternity, compared to _that_.

E: You _bastard_! I'll kill you! –tackles-

C: Erik! Erik stop it!

R: Christine! Help me! I'm too beautiful to get kill by an ugly man!

E: -jumps off and takes out sword- come on, Barbie. You and me. Let's go. –thrusts sword forward-

R: -screams and jumps back-

E: Unless you're too scared, that is.

C: Erik, stop it! For once I just wanted a _normal_ author's notes, but apparently I can't even have _that_!

E: W-wait. Christine…Christine don't act like that…

C: I hate this! I can't have a normal life! –starts crying-

E: -puts away sword and runs up to embrace- No, no, no. It's okay, Christine. See? I stopped, I won't hurt him. No matter how much he deserves it… Stop crying now…please?

C: -sniffs- Erik? Erik I have something to say…

E: What is it dear? Tell me.

C: …I win.

E: …

C: Please enjoy Chapter Six!

* * *

Roses of Life

* * *

Erik brushed back Christine's brown hair away from her face, gazing lovingly into her eyes. "Are you sure about this?"

"Yes, Erik. I've…I've never really wanted anything more," she replied, her voice low and shy. Her cheeks were slightly red as she kept looking away from him. Erik could tell she was clearly out of her comfort zone.

"Don't worry," he whispered, lifting her up and placing her on his lap, "I'm here. I'm not going to lie to you, it's not…entirely enjoyable."

"Still. Please, Erik. I want you to make love to me…" she whispered back. Silence fell and she looked away from him. Frowning slightly, Erik reached out and turned her head to face him.

"I do," he admitted. "I love you, Christine." Quickly, he attacked her lips with his before she would say anything that would make him change his mind. The simple kiss turned heated as Christine began to respond back.

Slowly, the hand that Erik held against her cheek moved down her while the other one rested on her waist. As their kiss continued, Erik placed his hand on Christine's breast as slowly began to massage it. The other hand moved lower and traveled up the skirts of her dress. Christine's own hands rested against his chest and were fumbling desperately with the buttons, trying to remove the shirt.

A soft moan escapes Christine's lips as his hand moved closer to the area in between her legs. Erik smiled as he broke of the kiss and slowly began to kiss her neck. Moving his other hand away from her chest, he went further down and slowly worked off the rest of the dress from her body. Now she sat in front of him, blushing as he stared at her body.

"You look beautiful Christine," he whispered, his voice low as he leaned forward. She fell back onto the soft bed, feeling his body weight rest comfortably over her. His hand had not moved away at any point, instead moving closer to her. Christine began to pant lightly as Erik's wicked fingers pressed against her sex. "And so wet," he whispered, his voice husky.

"Erik…" Christine moaned as she felt his fingers slip inside of her. He didn't respond though, too busy trying to restrain himself. He body felt overheated and he was already worrying. Scared of hurting her, terrified of losing her, he waited. When it seemed she had calmed down slightly, he slowly moved his fingers. Christine moaned again, but was stopped as he began to kiss her again. Erik knew he had to go slowly, had to let her adjust, explore, before he would be able to do anything else.

Christine, meanwhile, was still waging the war upon the buttons belonging to Erik's shirt. Only a few were left and she was getting desperate. The movement inside her wasn't helping much either in the cause, but still she fought on until at last she managed to remove the shirt from his body. Pressing her hands against his chest, she could feel the warmth radiating off his body and pressed herself closer, needing it. The short victory had preoccupied her until she was forced back to the sensations ricocheting through her body. Her body began to jerk upward, unable to control how her body responded. Instinctively her hands shot down to Erik's pants but she quickly stopped herself. Erik noticed.

"Christine," he said as he slipped his fingers out, bringing his other hand to her face. "I promise you, it'll be okay."

"I-it's just…" Christine glanced away, clearly embarrassed. Erik smiled slightly and kissed her again.

"It's only natural. I promise you it'll get better," he said to her, not wanting her to worry. He had wanted their first time together to be romantic and special, and so far it was crashing head-first into the ground. That was, if it was going to get done at all.

Gently, he took her hand in his and slowly brought it to his pants. Her small fingers slowly unfastened the single button and then stopped, paralyzed with nervousness. "You're doing great, Christine," Erik whispered. "Just don't think about it and it will happen naturally." Christine drew in her breath slowly before grabbing his pants and pulling them down. Erik smiled as he kissed her again in an attempt to distract her. To him, she was absolutely adorable when she got nervous and shy like this.

His cock throbbed with need as Christine let a moan escape, feeling his fingers once again enter her. Still he tried to go slow, even though he didn't know how much longer he could wait until he would lose all control. Christine's whole face was flushed red as her hips kept bucking into the air, unable to restrain her own body. "Erik, please…" she begged shamelessly. Moving his head back down, Erik planted soft kisses along her neck as he moved his fingers out of her and took her hand in his other, giving a small smile as he felt her fingers entwine in his.

Christine could feel the head press against her sex and she closed her eyes tightly. The size of him was shocking to her, now thinking there was no possible way he could fit into her. "It'll be easier as times passes," Erik whispered, trying to comfort her worries. "You'll get use to it, love." Eyes closing tightly, she felt him enter her so painfully slow. But, suddenly, he stopped.

"Erik…?" she asked, opening to her eyes to look at him. Gazing at her lovingly once again, he kissed her gently to erase her worries.

"I'll trying to make it as painless as possible," he said, more to himself than her. Slowly he continued until he heard Christine gasp slightly, her grip on his hand tightened.

"Keep going…" she whispered as tears welled up in her brown eyes. It was from both the pain and the immense happiness inside of her. She had never felt so connected to Erik, never felt so loved by him either. By the time he buried himself entirely inside of her the pain was slowly going away. Christine was breathing heavily as Erik continued to kiss her, taking her mind away from it as he moved out of her then again back in. The pain was gradually disappearing and being replaced by an amazing pleasure.

"Erik," she breathed, her cheeks burning as Erik's mouth moved away from hers and slowly began to travel down her body. One of his hands was resting contently on her hips, the other wandering around her body. The other hand moved further down her body, his fingers leaving lasting trails on her skin. His pace increased bit by bit as he tried to keep her occupied. The pleasure began to build up deep somewhere inside of her body.

Moving his hands down, he them behind her and firmly squeezed her ass as he continued to move inside her. Flexing his hips, he slowly built up his pace, able to tell from her reactions that her pain was quickly being replaced. It amazed him, really. He had done so much more with the women he hired, but with her it was so strange, so different.

Curious fingers finally made their way down and he couldn't help but smile. Suddenly, Christine gasped as Erik's fingers pressed against her clit, then moaned loudly as he moved them. "Oh god, Erik," she moaned as he continued playing with her. The pressure she felt from earlier just seemed to grow stronger and overwhelm her as he ruthlessly kept it up.

"Such a good girl, Christine," he approved as he kissed her passionately, slipping his tongue effortlessly into her mouth. Graciously, she accepted and did the same with him. What he was doing to her made her feel like she was on Cloud Nine. It wouldn't stop either. The pressure neither stayed the same or go away, but just kept building until it nearly seemed she couldn't stand it any long. "Erik!" she called out, holding onto him tightly as the pressure still kept getting stronger somewhere deep inside her body.

"Christine," Erik breathed, feeling his own pressure, which was there from the beginning, having a strong grip on him as well. Unable to help himself, he sped up his pace as Christine began to tremble underneath him. "Oh, Christine," he whispered to her, tangling his fingers into the mass of brown curls as he kissed her again. It wasn't much longer until he finally felt his release, coming deep inside of her as a wave of relief rushed throughout his body.

Smiling slightly, he carefully pulled out of her but refused to move his tormenting fingers away as well. Christine's body couldn't keep back the response, and soon she came as well. Panting heavily, Christine closed her eyes as she absorbed the sensations pulsing through her. A smile spread across her face as Erik moved close to her and wrapped an arm gently around her as he laid next to her. "I love you Christine," he whispered as he held her in his arms. Feeling him kiss the top of her head, she rested her head against his chest.

"I love you too Erik," she whispered back as she closed her eyes, a sudden exhaustion sweeping over it. It didn't take long until she had fallen fast sleep in his welcoming arms.

* * *

Sorelli walked through the opera house enraged at everything that was going on. She had been gone for a few hours and an entire revolution had started up inside the opera house. People ran around her, shouting words to one another as she continued to move further into the large building. "What in the hell is going on!?" she shouted. André and Firmin turned their heads as the ballet instructor walked onto the stage.

"Ah, Madame Giry, it's so good to see you. Carlotta just returned from her house and she's in an uproar," Firmin explained hurriedly. "Could you please calm her down?" Sorelli stared at the forming crowd as she moved her long, braided hair away from her face.

"I'll see what I can do…" she said before pushing back to the two men. Hurriedly, they traveled back to their office as Sorelli made it to the front of the crowd.

"Dearest, I'm sure they'll show up soon," Piangi, who was standing beside the prima donna, consulted. "They are just running late is all."

"Silence!" Carlotta demanded as she raised a gloved hand to Piangi's face. "They have _no _excuse! They are late and they will be _punished_!" she said as she lowered her hand. The two poodles who huddled together by her feet. "Oh! My poor babies," she said as she bent down and picked up the white and chocolate-colored dogs and placed them in Piangi's arms. "Go take them to my dressing room! And if you so help as harm my darlings I will _personally_ see to it that you will never work in this business again!" she treated unnecessarily. Quickly bowing to her, Piangi did as was instructed and soon disappeared.

As Sorelli continued watching the scene, several of Carlotta's attendants swarmed around her. "Carlotta, do you need anything else?" one of the people are her said as they carried a rather large box. The redhead quickly lost her already short temper as she was pestered.

"_All of you are in my bubble_!!!" she shrieked loudly. When the whole house fell silent, she gazed across her surroundings with piercing eyes. Suddenly, she began walking towards the backstage. "Move! Out of my way! What is with this disgusting crowd? _Ugh_! Move!" she demanded loudly as she made her away to her destination. She was stopped, though, as Sorelli watched a familiar face move in front of her.

"No need to be in such a good mood Carlotta," Felicity teased, sticking her tongue out at her as she held up a large, decorative poster. "I'm sure Christine will appear once again to steal the main soprano from you," she mocked as she raised a large, old fashioned camera that hung around her neck and took a quick picture.

"No, no, no, _no_!" Carlotta yelped. "No pictures, I am no ready!" She shouted before one of her followers walked up to her. Quickly, they began touching her up, plumping her hair and touching up her face. Lifting the camera again, Felicity snapped another picture.

"Oops…" she said, smiling innocently.

"You incestuous little prit!" Carlotta shrieked. "How dare you!" Reaching forward, she attempted to grab her neck but was stopped as Felicity kicked her in the shin. "Oh my God! Someone call a doctor! I'm bleeding," she screamed as Felicity ran away. Before Felicity disappeared into the crowd, she took one last picture then ran into the crowd.

Sorelli watched as Carlotta fell the ground, immediately swarmed by her attendants, as they tried to calm her down.

Firmin, hearing all the commotion from outside, stepped out and gestured towards André to join him. "André come here!" Said man stepped out as well, straining his jacket as he walked back towards the stage.

"Madness," André mumbled under his breath. "What's going on here?"

"Not quite sure myself, but it can't be good," Firmin answered. When they finally arrived at the stage, they saw Carlotta fallen, on the ground, and rushed up towards her. Reaching out a hand, Carlotta took hold of the collar on Firmin's jacket at brought his head next to hers.

"Get…her…" she ordered him. Firmin's eyes widened as he stood and nodded.

"Sure thing…" he said weakly before stepping back slightly as she was helped up by the five people surrounding her. André walked up to Firmin as he watched as well.

"Sometimes I wish he had stayed in the junk business," he whispered.

"_Scrap_ metal," Firmin corrected before turning to face Sorelli. "I thought we told you to deal with this."

"The problem resolved itself on it's own," she replied simply as she scanned the crowd, wondering where her daughter was. "Have you seen Meg? The blonde dancing girl?" she asked the managers.

"No," they both answered in unison as they joined the others with Carlotta as they helped her towards her dressing room. Getting frustrated, she forced them all away from her. Firmin, not paying too much attention, was still holding onto Carlotta and caused her to fall down.

"You damned fool!" she screamed once again as she lifted herself up. Grabbing her dress skirts, she quickly walked the remaining distance to her dressing room. Slamming the door behind her, she covered her face in shame. "How many of them saw me on the ground?" she asked her puppies, who were gazing at her from a couch. "They must think that I'm daft!" The dogs let out a single bark and she smiled slightly. Walking up to them, she gathered the two dogs in her arms and kissed each on the head. "You are such good little darlings," she told them happily. "And together, we will take control of this opera house once again." Placing her dogs back on the plush couch, they sat next to each other as they watched her reach into her shirt and take out a hidden picture of Christine. Smiling as she looked at it, she held it out over a candle and the flame soon caught on the picture. As the fire slowly started to consume it, she threw it into a basin and watched as the tiny blaze slowly consumed the photo. "Miss Christine Daaé will be no more in this business."

* * *

E: Everyone, I'd like to apologize on behalf on this entire chapter…

C: Why's that Erik?

E: It's so crappy –starts crying- Erik could have done _so much better_!

C: Oh, Erik. It's not so bad.

E: Erik is so sorry! Erik wants to kill someone…preferably Raoul…

C: It's okay Erik. This chapter is just fine. Everyone loves the story anyways so don't let this upset you. Christine loves you.

E: It _is _bad though, Christine. Everyone…-sniffles- please forgive me. Erik really is upset about this chapter. First because of how long it took him to set it up and finally post it: nearly three months. Then also for the obvious crappy-ness of it. Erik has…in reality never done that before so he really has no idea so this was written with 70% research from other stories, 20% educated-guess, and 9% blood, sweat and tears.

C: What was the remaining 1%?

E:…Threatening from Brennan that she'd kill me if I didn't put the chapter up soon…

C: For those (nearly all) of you that don't know, Brennan is a friend of ours from school that is an avid reader.

E: Okay, now that I've gotten the mourning out of the way, Erik would like to discuss something me and Christine have been talking about amongst each other concerning everyone's reviews from Chapter 3 and onward.

C: Oh, yes. I know what you're talking about –smiles-. Everyone, we would like to tell you something concerning everyone's favorite character: Felicity.

E: A.k.a the nosey bitch.

C: Exactly. Readers, we would like you to know who the exact creator of Felicity is and who controls her in our humble little roleplay.

E: _It is I!!!!! _–evil laughter-

C: Yup. Erik here is the one who decided all of Felicity's actions, personality, why she's such a bitch, etc.

E: I must praise myself, she truly is a work of art. So, for nearly everyone who wrote a review along the lines of 'I hate Felicity, she's such a nosey brat', it was done on _purpose_. She was created for excitement and just so I could have an excuse to give poor Sorelli stress in the roleplay.

C: Also, if you think you hate her now, you do not realizing your capability yet.

E: We're quite far ahead than the story written here, so we know just how bad it's getting.

C: Also, she'll be the _least _of your problems. –smiles warmly-

E: I can't wait for you all to meet Marcel. Oh, you'll just _love him_.

C: Don't give too much away Erik.

E: I know Christine. He'll be showing up soon, so everyone will just have to be patient.

C: Okay, so that's all we wanted to say. We hope everyone enjoyed the chapter, despite what Erik claims.

E: Please, please, _please_ review our story. Me and Christine really do enjoy reading them and getting feedback off of it. Erik also will start trying to reply to the reviews, since Erik wants to personally get to know his fans. –smiles brightly- Also, the empty inbox tends to depress Erik a little when he sees it…

C: Also, any comments on the chapter will probably do Erik a world of good.

E: Be reminded if they are ruthless I will cry…Do you want to make Erik cry?

C: Leave them alone, they can do whatever they want.

E: I know! Last thing, Erik and Christine really do try to be funny! So thank you for reading

C: Tune in for the next chapter soon!


	7. An Introduction

E: Erik, first of all, wants to apologize for the last chapter. He kinda…lost it? Yea, that sounds about right. Anyways, not only that but he noticed later on that there were a _lot_ of typos. So he fixed them all and posted that up as well. –smiles-

C: I've been meaning to ask you that. You're normally pretty good with editing. How'd you miss them?

E: Well, it's an exciting story filled with adventure and suspense.

C: Oh?

E: Yes, I was writing my other stories.

C: Okay, you lost me.

E: Of course you wouldn't understand.

C: Now I wouldn't say that-

E: You see, ladies and gentlemen…mainly ladies, I write my own personal novels on the side. I'm currently writing two. One is 17 chapters long and still going and the other is 3. The first is called Little Marlinchen and the other Robin.

C: That was very rude Erik…

E: They are part of a series. What I do with the series is that I take a little known nursery rhyme (1/2 of the base of the story) and take an abnormality (the other half) and combine them! This can range anywhere from the paranormal to mental diseases. Robin, actually the first in the Johnson Series, is based off the nursery rhyme "Who Killed Cock Robin" and is about a schizophrenic ten-year-old boy. The other book is based off a nursery rhyme call "Juniper Tree" and is about a boy (three parts and he's an adult in the 2nd and 3rd) who has nightmares about horrific events that end up coming true.

C: Don't promote your stories on our role-play.

E: But technically this is my story too.

C: Don't get smart with me.

E: Erik is sorry to everyone, but he just likes talking about his stories cause he's so proud about them.

C: Are you done?

E: Yes! Sorry I hogged the spotlight my dear, but I just wanted to get that out of the way. So everyone-

C: Everyone, please enjoy Chapter 7.

* * *

Roses of Life

* * *

Murmuring and whispered echoed throughout the canyon-like room as Carlotta left the area in a storm. Felicity appeared from her hiding place and replaced the poster of Christine back on the bulletin board. Seeing the two managers, she smiled as she reached behind her ear and into the sash she wore around her tiny waist. Taking out a pencil and notepad, she rushed up to them before they had the chance to escape from her reporter clutches. "Sirs! Sirs, if I may?" she called out as she stopped them from moving back towards their office. "What, in your exact words, is going on around here? The lead so far is missing, Carlotta is plotting to steal it in her place, and the elusive Phantom has yet to be caught."

"Why, little girl, funny you should ask…" André said, his voice shaky. "Well, we were just about to see," he answered, pointing over to the looming crowd huddled around the bulletin board. Together, Firmin and André walked up to the horde, Felicity following them close behind. Easily passing through the throng, Felicity stared up at a piece of paper tacked underneath the poster she replaced of Christine. "Ah, seems they finally put it up," André commented. Raising her camera, Felicity took another picture before turning back to the managers. "Wow! You've hired a professional detective and everything!" she said, clearly impressed as she took a picture of André and Firmin. "What does it feel like sir?" she asked, not caring which manager answered. As she waited for the response, she quickly took out her pencil once again

"Err- umm…" Firmin mumbled, quickly elbowing André in the ribs. "Answer her!" he whispered fiercely.

"Oh…umm…it feels…wonderful to become so famous," André replied proudly. Gazing down at the young woman, he cleared his throat loudly. Her stare was making him very uncomfortable.

"Let me rephrase that. How does it feel to have your star soprano to be kidnapped by the Opera Ghost?" she questioned, readying her pencil.

"I feel compelled to find the culprit!" Andréa yelled, punching his open palm with his other fisted hand. Firmin rolled his eyes before Felicity turned to face him.

"And you, sir?"

"I am saddened that someone would kidnap her. Poor thing, she's probably dead by now," he said with sorrow in his voice. Suddenly noticing Felicity was writing down everything he was saying, he attempted to fix the mistake. "Scratch that! She's probably having a nice, warm dinner right now. Yeah, that's what I meant," he stammered. Suddenly feeling very stressed, he loosened the tie around his neck. "I have to go," he said quickly before turning away. Walking briskly back to his office, he slammed the door behind him.

"Imbecile," André muttered under his breath before looking back to Felicity. "No comment," he said before following after his partner. Felicity sighed in frustration as she finished off her notes before turning back to the poster.

"He'll be coming soon," she said, talking to no one in particular. Noticing Sorelli make her way slowly out of the crowd, she left the poster and quietly followed after her. Making sure she was far behind, she watched behind a large statue as Meg slowly walked up to her mother. Felicity smiled as she smelt a story. Ms. Giry disappearing for a whole day then returning later, clearly drunk. Things couldn't be any better.

"What's wrong, Meg? Where were you?" Sorelli asked, clearly worried. Her daughter had obviously been crying.

"Raoul!" Meg cried out as a response. Felicity quickly began writing on her notepad as she continued to listen in on the conversation.

"God, I was wondering where you were this whole time. Meg, darling, he's not worth it," Sorelli said soothing. "Do you want to talk about it?" her mother asked her, wrapping her arms around her.

"I hate him! He still loves Christine," Meg shouted. Shoulders heaving, Felicity guessed that she had started crying again.

"Well of course he still loves her. He's going through a tough-" Sorelli paused and Felicity had to suppress laughter. "Wait, have you been drinking?" she asked. When her daughter nodded, she backed away slightly to look at her, clearly furious. "That bastard got you _drunk_!?"

"No…No, I…I did," Meg said, not making any sense.

"Bastard," Sorelli hissed under her breath. "Dear, please don't get drunk around him anymore."

"Why not? I'm old enough to drink whenever I want to. Besides," she muttered, folding her arms across her chest, "he got drunk first."

"I don't care, Meg. I don't want him doing anything to you," she said. A strained silence passed between the two and Sorelli's eyes widened. "Meg, what did he do to you?!"

"Nothing…Nothing Mama," Meg muttered, avoiding her gaze. Sorelli reached out and forced Meg to look at her.

"Meg, I want you to tell me _right now_," she ordered. "Oh god, if he got you pregnant Meg…!" she trailed off.

"Nothing happened Mama," Meg muttered quietly. Sorelli sighed, said something incoherent to her daughter, and then watched as she walked off towards the dormitories. As Sorelli walked back towards the stage, Felicity pocketed her supplies and carefully followed after until they arrived back on the stage and to an even bigger crowd. Curious, Felicity split away from her stalking and pushed her way to the middle of the crowd. Suddenly, a gap opened up and only one person stood in the middle. It was an older man wearing a large trench coat. His hands were raised in the air, indicating that he wanted silence.

"Ladies…and gentlemen," he said, his voice commanding absolute attention. "please, hear me out." Mutters started amongst the crowd, but quickly diminished as he stopped talking. "I have discovered a way…to both capture the elusive Phantom and save…Miss Christine Daaé as well," he said. A smug smile on his face, he scanned the crowd like a hawk. "We will host an opera…and send a letter to the opera ghost through Madame Giry tat we wish…for Miss Daaé to star as the leading soprano. Being the…type of thing the Phantom is, he will be unable to refuse the request. Then…either before or during the show, we will 'kidnap' her," he explained. Whispered agreements and approval passed through the large group before silence fell again, asking him to continue. "Afterwards, we will send another letter to him…saying that if he wishes to have Miss…Daaé back, then he must come to the…Opera House. That is where we will capture him…and rid ourselves of him for good!" he said triumphantly. The whole crowd burst into applause when he had finished and Felicity immediately began writing notes. The young girl couldn't help but smile, the elderly man was very interesting. This was going to be a lot of fun…

"Excuse me," a voice said through the roar of voices. People shushed quickly as Sorelli stepped forward, facing the man. "I'm Sorelli Giry. I do not know where the Phantom is. How can I deliver the letter?" she questioned the man.

"Excuses, Madame, are not required here. I've heard you have known this creature for quite some time now. I'm sure you can…reach him easily," the man replied to her.

"Well I don't. if you wish to get a message to him, I suggest leaving it in Box Five," she said stiffly. Calculating, the man stared into her eyes as if trying to see past her words.

"But who knows when…it will return to get the letter," he said sternly. Felicity thought it weird that he took so many pauses, as if out of breath. But it seemed whenever something important came up they appeared less and less. "You are our…quickest way ma'am," he retorted. Sorelli visibly stiffed, clearly getting irritated.

"I'm fairly certain he will return soon to retrieve the letter. However, if he doesn't get it within a few days I'll see what I can do." The strange man scanned her face carefully.

"Is something troubling you, by chance? You seem…to be hiding…something," he commented, speaking carefully.

"It's none of your concern," she spat, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

"Madame Giry, do you know _exactly_ who I am? Because, if you do…I suggest you tell me…what is going on in that head of yours."

"Well, I don't know who you are monsieur." The man smiled, he was clearly expecting the question to pop up.

"I am Monsieur Marcel Lafayette, one of the greatest detectives for our wonderful country. I'm sure you've read about me in the papers. Now, it is required by law, Madame, for you to tell me everything you know about a case. In this case here, Miss Daaé's disappearance."

"I don't know anything about Christine or where she went!" Sorelli snapped at him furiously. Felicity began to scribble down notes, getting excited at the building argument.

"Ahh, but my sources say you do," he said, moving closer to her. Carefully, almost taking his sweet time, he circled around her. His sharp eyes scanned her entirely before he stopped behind her. Leaning close to her, his head was practically next to hers. "If you don't start talking, you may end up with blood on your hands, Madame."

"It would not be wise to _threaten_ the only one the Phantom _respects_," she whispered ferociously. Spinning around to face him, she saw him grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"So you _do_ know him," he whispered into her ear. "Well, ma'am that may be so," he said, suddenly returning his voice to normal level, "but I don't think you realize the danger this woman is in. This…_thing_ has captured her and, if we don't hurry, the next thing we will see is her lifeless corpse. Forget all the _lies_ this thing has been feeding to you. I can't love, it doesn't know _how to love_. It's just a lust for bloodshed and flesh, that is all. If you don't tell us everything you know, it'll just be a matter of time before it kills _again_," Marcel threatened, the expression daring Sorelli to say otherwise. Suddenly, he turned to look at the surrounding crowd. "Do you all want to be the next _victim_ of this demented thing running around freely in this opera house?!" he exclaimed. A murmur of agreement flew through the crowd before all as silent again as Sorelli spoke.

"So she has been taken against her will, has she? I believe the Vicomte was down there as well, and he didn't say anything about her departure being involuntary," she offered calmly. Marcel opened his mouth to reply but was stopped as Sorelli continued. "Besides, how do you know that the Phantom will even come? It's very unlikely he will fall for it; he will suspect a trap. And why would he let Miss Daaé out of his sight in the first place?"

"_Exactly_! Which is why we must move now! It is too soon for him to suspect us to attack it again. Besides, supposedly this _man_ has come to every opera here since it had arrived, so who's to say that it won't come this time?" he turned to face Sorelli. "But, it is true, this plan requires some luck for it to work. There is that, and I see no one else attempting to help rescue this poor girl from certain _death_," he told her calmly.

"I don't believe the Phantom would hurt her; he has idolized her for far too long. And he's probably far away by now. I really don't know where he is like you claim."

"Strange…" he muttered, moving back to where he was on the outskirts of the stage's edge. "If I wasn't so sure, Madame Giry, that you were on our side, I could've sworn on oath that you were _protecting_ that pitiful creature you call a man." Marcel's voice had turned shallow, ice cold as he rubbed his hand on his chin. "Murderers work in strange ways ma'am-"

"The Phantom's not a murderer!" a voice screamed out from the crowd. Marcel and Sorelli turned to the source in unison and the crowd opened up so that only a single person stood alone: Felicity. Sorelli couldn't hold back her irritated sigh. "H-He loves Christine," she said, her voice trembling as she noticed everyone was looking at her. "He would never even _think_ of harming her…"

"Both of your minds have been completely corrupted by this monster," Marcel noted with disgust. "Don't either of you see that he is just using you to escape from his own sins?"

"This _man_ is a genius. Even if you do succeed in kidnapping Christine, he _will_ get her back. And then, he'll come after you. I've seen his wrath before," she said. The low and deathly tone she gave off sending chills throughout the whole room.

"Allow me to guess," he asked, clearly amused, " 'keep you hands at the level of your eyes'?" He chuckled. "Never the less, I will be seeing you again in the near future, Madame. Till then…" Walking up to her once again, he took her hand in his, kissed the top of it, then turned heel and left. Shaking, Felicity walked up to the elder woman as the crowd slowly dispersed.

"That was very foolish of you, shouting out like that," Sorelli said angrily as she began walking towards the entrance of the opera house. Felicity followed closely behind.

"I know Madame Giry, I apologize. It's just…the way he was talking about the Phantom. It just got me so mad…" she explained. Both women stopped as Felicity fell silent. "If I may be permitted to speak, we have new patron's have arrived. It was during your…debate. They are waiting for you in the foyer. They wish to speak with you, seeing as our dear managers are dealing with other matters at hand… Their names are María and Zavier. The husband is from England so he will not be able to converse with you."

"Fine. Why do you care about what happened to the Phantom?" she questioned, beginning to walk again.

"I just feel sympathy towards him. He's probably felt so alone for so many years, and now he's finally found someone who everyone else is trying to take away," she said tearfully.

"Well, you will have to get use to it, the world is that way. Now go, I have to attend to the patron's."

* * *

When Christine awoke the next morning, Erik was missing from the bed. A warm breeze fluttered in from the opened window as the midday sun shone brightly inside. Yawning, she managed to make her away out of the room fully dressed and into the small kitchen, seeing Erik partly dressed and standing in front of the oven, muttering to himself. "Good morning dear," she said happily. Erik turned to face her and smiled warmly as he walked up to her and took gentle hold of her arms.

"Now what are you doing up? I'm not done with your surprise yet," he said happily as he carefully guided her back to the bedroom. Christine couldn't help but smile as he sat her on the bed.

"Now what would that be?" she asked, giggling. Kissing the top of her head, he placed a finger against her lips then walked out of the room. Patiently, she waited a few minutes until she followed after him. "How late did I sleep?" she asked him, staying out of view from the kitchen door.

"Real late, love. It's noon now. Now you just wait by your pretty little self until I call you in," he teased playfully. She still waited until suddenly she heard what seemed to be a soft 'boom' then laughter. Running into the room, she saw the entire kitchen covered completely in raw dough. A bowl that sat on the counter was boiling over with the offensive material as Erik sat on the ground, laughing as he wiped off dough from his skin.

"I have never seen you so happy," she noted as she helped him stand up. Holding her close, he kissed her as she laughed.

"I guess it's because I finally have a reason to be," he replied as he stared at the bumbling bowl. "Guess your surprise breakfast is served," he said.

"It's fine, I'll just make something," she said as she separated from him and quickly fixed something up. Soon, the smell of cooking dough drifted from the stove as Christine watched them carefully. Erik walked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her small waist.

"I'm not hungry anymore though," he whispered as he covered her neck in light kisses. Christine, smiling, shooed him away as he laughed.

"You should be like this more often, you seem so much more content," she said as she went back to her station in front of the oven. Erik walked up to her once again, despite the warning looks she was sending to him, and placed his hands gently on her stomach.

"Now, now _cher_. We wouldn't want you to get overexcited," he said as he slowly rubbed her flat stomach. Leaning her head back, she watched as he started to quietly talk to her stomach.

"Now Erik, we don't even know if I'm pregnant yet," she said cautiously as she watched him.

"I know, but just let me hope for a little longer," he replied. "Right, _mon bébé_? You should tell your _ta mère _to be more willing," he teased. Christine raised her eyebrows in surprise as she took the food and placed them on two plates.

"What makes you think it'll be a boy?" she asked as she placed the food down. Erik quickly sat down and soon devoured the meal.

"Father's intuition?"

"That's 'mother's'," Christine corrected, laughing slightly. Watching him eat, she was reminded about all the things she had ever wanted to know about him. Even though they were so close, she still felt so far away from him. She hardly knew a thing about his past, hardly seeming fair to her since they were spending the future together. "Erik, if you don't mind me asking, what was your childhood like?" she asked carefully. Erik continued smiling as he stood and placed the dish in the sink and sat again, close to her.

"I don't like to dwell to much on it, Christine." He placed his hand over her stomach again. "It's the future that matters anyways."

"Yes, I know. But I'd like to know, so I could understand you better. What do you remember most?"

"…My mother," Erik said relucently. Christine placed her hand over his.

"I'm sorry Erik, I shouldn't have said anything…" she said sadly, turning to look away from him.

"No, Christine, it's okay. It's just…I was never really loved. The most love I ever had as a child was when they gave me a bag to cover my face with. My mother never loved me. She put me in a freak show, 'The Devil's Child', and that was the last I ever saw of her," he said. "Sometimes I wonder what she did after I left," he muttered to himself as he stood.

"Oh, Erik that's horrible," Christine exclaimed as she followed after him, he brushed away her worries with a simple kiss then walked into the room, throwing on shoes and a shirt.

"Don't worry Christine, come with me," he said, smiling again as he took her hand in his. Going along with it, she smiled as well as he led her outside the small cottage to the surrounding land. Still holding tightly onto her, he led her around to the back of the home. Vibrantly colored flowers attacked Christine's vision as she stared in wonder at the beauty of it. "Just think of it, Christine," he breathed as he walked her through the large garden. Butterflies and hummingbirds buzzed around the couple's heads as he led her to a fully grown oak tree. A swing was hanging from one of the sturdy branches. Erik helped Christine onto it as he stood next to her, gazing out onto the landscape.

"Think of what?" she asked, excited.

"We can live here when we get married. Our kids will grow up here, among nature and in the healthiest way possible," he exclaimed happily as he pushed her so the swing would start to move.

"But Erik…they won't make any friends that way," Christine observed quietly.

"The animals will be their friends…"

"Is that really the best…?" she asked. "Maybe Sorelli could take them with her to the opera house. So they can be with other children and get an education?"

"I…I don't know, Christine. People are…are very unforgiving these days to…to people like me," he said quietly. Christine looked at him, staring.

"Erik, what do you mean?"

"Well…what if our children end up…end up like…like…" Erik trailed off.

"Like you?" Christine filled in, starting to get mad slightly.

"Y-yea…" he answered. Christine sighed as she stopped the swing and stood up next to him.

"Erik, look at me," she said sternly as he lifted his head. He looked like he was about to cry. "Erik, no matter what, our children will be beautiful so don't you _ever_ think otherwise. _I_ think you're beautiful," she told him as she kissed him. "I love you, Erik. Please don't forget that…" Erik smiled slightly.

"I love you too," he whispered to her, taking her hand in his once again. "And I never want to leave you, my love."

"You'll never have too."

* * *

C: That was another very long chapter…

E: -panting- I know, it feels like my hands are moving at warp speed. –sigh- And done so close from the last one. You readers had better love Erik for this.

C: I'm sure they do Erik, really I am.

E: Thanks to everyone who reviewed to the last chapter, Erik really was happy with all the feedback he got.

C: Yes we both were.

E: Now, everyone, guess what?

C: -smiles- we would like to inform you all of a very special, special guest that will appear in the next chapter.

E: Heh, I'll think you'll like it. Anyone like the random French I threw in there? Christine wouldn't understand it, of course, since she took _Spanish_ for her language course.

C: Don't start Erik. Please don't…

E: Fine, I'm exhausted anyways. Anyways, Erik once again wishes for everyone to review and, hell, even tell your friends to read the story so he can get more readers.

C: You are so selfish sometimes.

E: That may be but everyone still loves me –smiles-

C: Okay, so since this is such a longer chapter this is going to be a short A/N

E: Good-bye everyone! Erik loves you all! Christine too, I guess.

C: Can't wait to see everyone next chapter!


	8. The Patrons

C: Hello everyone and welcome back to Roses of Life. It is with great regret that I am forced to inform you that Erik will not be joining us for this beginning A/N.

R: Gee, the sissy ran away, big surprise.

F: If anything, that's what you are…

C: For those of you wondering why, they're the reason. –glances at Raoul and Felicity-

F: -smiles-

R: You know Christine, now is a great time for us to get to know each other better…

C: No, Raoul. I'm with someone now.

R: I'm _so _much better for you though, dear.

F: I'm amazed really. You're quite brave to hit on the wife of the Phantom.

C: Oh, I'm not his wife _yet_.

R: My love, marriage is not as binding as you think –flashes bright, annoying smile-

F: Well I think that Erik would like to intervene right about now so I'll just be leaving then. Sorry for sneaking in. –leaves randomly-

R: -puts hand on Christine's leg- Now, where were we…?

E: -suddenly swoops in on rope, kicks Raoul in face, then lands and pulls out sword- _Bring it, pussy_!

R: -screams like a girl and runs into corner of room- P-please…d-don't hurt me….spare me please…

C: My hero…

E: -smiles manically and walks up to Raoul- Give me a good reason.

R: I'm too beautiful…?

E: _Wrong_! –slashes sword across Raoul's chest and clothes tear to spell a 'p'- For pansy. Now get the hell out of my story!

R: -still trembling- Y-yes sir… -runs out-

E: -smiles and grabs Christine by the waist- And that is why they call me Don Juan.

C: I thought it was something else…

E: Now, now, dear. We have innocent readers here.

C: It's rated M, genius.

E:…Everyone I apologize for that. Those two suddenly stormed into the building and Erik had to hide until one of them left so he could make his grand entrance. He hoped you enjoyed it –winks-

C: Yes, and I had to entertain them…

E: Well I would have taken you with me but then we would not have an author's note now would we?

C: No, Erik. You should have brought me.

E: Now, Christine don't be mad…

C: Everyone, please enjoy the lovely Chapter Eight.

E: Christine…?

C: Also, this time around anything that is _italic_ either is emphasis on something or a person speaking English.

E: Christine…don't be mad baby.

* * *

Roses of Life

* * *

"Hello, I am Madame Giry, the ballet instructor. Welcome to the Opera Populaire. I apologize that the managers could not come down to see you, so I hope I can be of help," Sorelli said as she approached a couple standing beside each other and conversing in a foreign language. The woman looked up and smiled brightly at her as she walked up to her and kissed the air beside each of her cheeks.

"It's alright, such a pleasure to meet you. My name is María and this is my husband Zavier," she introduced as a man with jet black hair stepped forward and bowed slightly towards her. "We were just wondering if you show us around the opera house? The both of us know it is in need of some repair, but we were hoping it wouldn't be a bother?"

"No bother at all," she said. María's face lit up as she turned to her husband.

"_Did you 'ear zat? She said ve could go!_" María said excitedly to her husband. The man smiled as he patted her hand that was being held in his.

"_Yes dear, very exciting. Now, I think you should pay attention to her more or she might leave._"

"_Oh!_" María cried out, suddenly embarrassed as she blushed. "I'm sorry, Madame Giry. My husband doesn't understand anything else but English much. You don't mind, do you?"

"No, of course not. Follow me," she said pleasantly as she began walking out of the foyer beside the couple. "So what made you decide to become patrons?"

"Well, it was Miss Daaé, to say the least. My husband and I have been coming here once every two weeks to see a show and we happened to attend 'Hannibal' and we just fell in love with her."

"Yes, she is a spectacular singer," Sorelli agreed as she walked them towards the backstage. She wondered to herself whether the couple was aware of the fact that Christine was not at the opera house anymore.

"Excuse me? I hate to interrupt, but could we stop and take a break?" María asked suddenly. Sorelli stopped the short tour and showed the two over to a small area that normally the actors would sit and wait for their cues. "I'm sorry, but he tends to exhaust me," she explained as her hand rested over her stomach. "We are expecting a boy."

"Oh, well congratulations."

"_She zays con…congra…_" María said in the strange tongue again, obviously towards her husband. "_It eez…vith zee baby. Like good luck?_"

"_I know what you're talking about, it's okay, love. Now don't let me keep you, you're the only one she understands,_" Zavier said, his voice deep as he gently kissed María's forehead. Nodding, she turned back to face Sorelli, smiling. The older woman smiled back, not knowing what else to do.

"Do you know if she will be singing in the next opera? We weren't able to come to the last performance and we were so excited about getting here that Zavier forgot to read the paper for the reviews on it," the woman asked, clearly excited as she sat on the edge of her seat with her husband practically holding her still.

"I'm not sure. She just left to visit her family earlier this morning," Sorelli lied. "We are unsure when the opera house will be repaired enough for a new production as well."

"That's a shame. Well, the both of us are willing to give in as much money needed to get this place up and running again. I have fond memories here, and I would hate to see the place shut down."

"Well, thank you very much. The managers will be pleased to hear it," Sorelli said as she stood from the chair. "Do you think you can walk some more?" she asked. María smiled as she stood up along with Zavier and began walking along with Sorelli but the young French woman stopped before the bulletin board. She was staring at the poster Felicity had shown to everyone just mere hours ago.

"What's all his about?" she questioned as she stared at the poster. On it was written that a reward would be given to anyone who knew the whereabouts of Christine.

"I have no idea," she lied again, giving the woman a straight face. "I only know what I was told. Perhaps Miss Daaé disappeared on her way to her family?"

"Oh, the poor dear!" María exclaimed as she stared at the picture of the missing soprano. "I do ever so hope they will find her alright."

"Yes, we are all praying for her," Sorelli said. Suddenly, she considered the statement for a moment. "Except Carlotta," she added under her breath as Zavier tapped his wife's shoulder.

"_What happened, dear?_"

"_Oh, zee girl 'as been taken avay! She eez mizzing, zey 're ztill trying to find 'er_," she said slowly, as if trying to pick out the words before turning to Sorelli. "Then I shall send my own wishes as well. What a horrible thing to have happened to such a young thing," she said, her voice as fast as lightening as her grip on her husband's hand tightened. A man walked up to them and looked at the woman.

"Indeed it is, ma'am," Marcel said. Sorelli, glaring at him, turned to face the patrons.

"María, Zavier, this is Marcel Lafayette. He is the man searching for Miss Christine. Marcel, these are the new patrons."

"So I've heard," he said politely. Carefully making is way around the woman, he walked up to where he stood beside Sorelli and leaned close to her. "You really should tell them what is actually going on," he advised in a whisper.

"It's really not necessary," she muttered in reply. "Besides, I don't think the managers would be all to happy if you yourself told our guests."

"Why ever not? They're sure to find out at one point or another," Marcel sneered.

"Perhaps not on their first visit, don't you think!?" Sorelli whispered angrily.

"…They must have deep pockets if you don't want to scare them off this badly," Marcel noted. Sorelli glared at him for a short while before turning to María who was staring at them, clearly confused.

"Shall we go on with the tour?" she offered as she walked past the elderly male.

"Yes, please do," María agreed. As she followed, she sent a well-placed glare in Marcel's direction before turning back to the job at hand. As they walked on to where they were soon behind the stage, Sorelli began showing María the scenery from the last play.

"We used these when performing _Don Juan Triumphant_," Sorelli said as they continued their slow migration throw the props. Sorelli noticed from the corner of her eye that Zavier tapped his wife's shoulder and the two stopped.

"_Ask her if it has something to do with the Phantom._"

"_I vill do no such zing! It iz none of our bizness in ze first place!_" María whispered to her husband as Sorelli patiently waited for some type of translation.

"_Then how about the opera itself? Just ask her how it turned out, love._"

"_Fine, fine_," she muttered before turning to face Sorelli. "My husband would like to know, if it is no trouble, how the opera turned out?"

"Both the reception and the reviews were all wonderful, save the accident near the end," she answered simply.

"That's terrible to hear," María said sadly as, again, Zavier whispered something to her again. "I won't ask something like that, dear. It's rude," she stated.

"No, please. What is it?" More whispered arguments ensued until finally María sighed and turned to face Sorelli.

"My husband would like to know if the accident from last night and the state of the opera house had anything to do with the…the opera ghost," María translated softly, her cheeks turning bright red.

"Well, the opera ghost apparently wrote the opera itself, but I think the whole thing was a publicity stunt."

"Thank you," María said as her husband glanced at her, clearly irritated. The woman ignored them completely. "I'm sure that that is all we need to know for now," she said, now looking at her own husband.

"Very well then. Please feel free to come back any time you'd like," Sorelli said to the woman, secretly relieved that they were leaving. "Allow me to show you out," she offered as she walked the guests back to the foyer.

"Thank you, Madame Giry, for showing us around on such a short notice. We both know that you and the managers are very busy and we appreciate this very much," María said joyfully as her husband began to lead her past the doors.

"Of course, and thank you for your generosity!" she called out as María waved her final goodbye before disappearing in a coach which soon left as well. Sighing in relief, Sorelli closed the large doors and walked up to the stairs, feeling exhausted. As she walked she saw the two people she had begun to most hate standing in front of each other.

"Now, Marcel, are you married? Do you have a family at all?" Felicity asked as she stared at the man in amazement. Sorelli only guessed that the young girl was planning to write some sort of personal article.

"Yes actually. I have a son and a daughter and my wife is still with us."

"And what are their names?"

"Well, my eldest son is named Anthony and my daughter is Aida. My wife, bless her heart, is Madeleine," Marcel answered, smiling as he reached into his pant's pocket and took out a picture. On it was a young girl, a slightly older boy, and a woman embracing them both. "They're all much older now, Anthony is almost thirty, but they're still my children."

"How did you meet Madeleine? Do you know much of her life before she met you?"

"Well, she was a traveling gypsy when I met her. She had already had a child but she never told me much about it. I think it was a girl. Anyways, when we met I proposed to her immediately and now we've been married for nearly thirty-five years," Marcel recalled as he replaced the picture. Felicity was smiling up at him.

"How romantic," she sighed as she finished off her notes and replaced the pad and pencil as well. Sorelli, who was watching the whole transaction, slowly backed away before either of them would see her, thanking that they didn't at first. Moving back to where she was in the foyer, she gazed around the surroundings and was happy to see everything was as it should be. Climbing back down the stairs, that happiness was crushed as a little girl walked past her, holding a letter.

"I found a letter! I found a letter!" she chimed happily as she stared at the paper, still walking. Sorelli noticed the skull-shaped stamp closing the entire thing and ran quickly down to the girl, grabbing her wrist and taking it from her.

"Where did you find this?" she demanded from the little girl. The small eight year old giggled happily as she rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet.

"It was in a really pretty room, on this _big_ table," she exclaimed happily as she raised her arms and extended them as far as they could reach. The small child evidently did not know she had done anything wrong.

"Show me," Sorelli ordered, confused at what the girl was talking about. Nodding, the girl instantly ran off in the opposite direction of where she had appeared from, towards the back of the opera house, and turned into Sorelli's bedroom. She smiled triumphantly as she pointed to the desk containing all of Sorelli's pictures.

"It was right here, next to all the nice pictures." Sorelli frowned slightly.

"Little girl, you should stay out of my room," she advised as she replaced the letter on the wood.

"Hm? I didn't know that. I was looking around for my aunt. Have you seen her?"

"No," Sorelli said, exhausted. "You should go and try to find her. She's going to show up eventually," the woman said, anxious to get rid of the nosey girl. Frowning, the girl shook her head violently then reached up to try to grab the letter again. Sorelli took it off the desk before she could grab it.

"I wanna know what the letter says! I found it, so it's mine!" she shouted.

"It was in my room and it's addressed to me, so it's mine," Sorelli snapped back, staring down at the pouting child. "Now go find your aunt and don't tell anyone about this letter, okay?"

"Fine…" the girl said, defeated, as she left the room. Waiting until she was sure she was alone, Sorelli opened the letter and scanned over the scribbled lettering.

I know that I write this letter under dangerous circumstances, so I must beg from your forgiveness, but Christine has been begging me to write to you. We would both be glad for you and your daughter, if she wishes, to join us for an afternoon. Currently, we are in the house I had built, I believe you remember how to get there. It would be preferably within the next few days, and that you bring along the things we had discussed earlier. The both of us will be expecting your arrival and will welcome you with open arms.

_-Erik_

Smiling, she nodded her approval as she lit up a fire in the hearth and burned the letter in the flames. Traveling back through the opera house, she walked into the ballet dormitories and walked up to the occupied bed where Meg slept. "Meg, are you awake?" Sorelli asked as she gently touched her daughter's shoulder.

"Yes, Mama," she answered, turning around to look at her mother.

"Well then, how would you like to see Christine?" she whispered

* * *

E: Christine…Christine please answer me.

C: For those of you wondering, yes, I am still ignoring Erik. And I will continue to for awhile.

E: Christine, I'm sorry. Really I am. Next time, I'll take you with me…

C: That's not going to do it Erik.

E: Then what will?

C: Next time they come, _you_ have to entertain them.

E:…Don't be insane, love.

C: It's either that or I continue to ignore you.

E: Okay…okay love, okay.

C: -smiles- now, do you have anything to say?

E: Yes! Did any of you like the French accent? I had always wanted to do that, but I never had the chance. For those of you that don't understand the whole thing with María, she's obviously French. She learned English from her husband, Zavier, and thus has a French accent when speaking English. Which is why it goes away when she speaks her native tongue.

C: Complicated, but it works. At least, that's what he likes to think. Also, to those of you interested, Erik has completely updated and changed his profile, so now you can go ahead and read the insanity.

E: Speaking of insanity, I watched the absolute _creepiest_ movie _ever _to exist on this green earth.

C: What is it?

E: Well, it's actually two movies put into one. It's a foreign film by some dude or chick (I can't really tell) from somewhere like Eastern Europe or something. It's called Alice & Darkness Light Darkness. That's the two movie's names. Alice is literally just like Alice in Wonderland except the only person you ever see if Alice herself. Everyone else is either this really weird looking puppet thing or this messed up combination of creepy crap. And they hardly speak but when they do Alice talks for them, and then it goes to a shot of the little girl's lips saying something.

C: So it's like 'Oh no!' with Alice talking for it and the rabbit shown then it cuts to a shot of Alice's lips and she says…?

E: 'cried the white rabbit.' It's so creepy! Then Darkness Light Darkness is even worse! All it is is a room with two clay hands and slowly more pieces of body parts come in. The order was: arms and hands, eyes, ears, head, tongue and teeth, brain, feet, a dick and balls, then a whole bunch of random clay that the hands shape until there's an entire man curled up in this tiny little room. That is like, seven minutes long and Alice is nearly two hours and it is so…there are just no words for how weird this movie is.

C: Then why did you watch it?

E: Because Netflix's screwed me over! It was suppose to be this completely different movie! Oh my god, I will never, under any circumstances, ever watch that movie again. People, don't watch it. It is not worth the hour and a half of watching time. However, if you like extremely creepy shit, be my guest and tell me personally what you thought of the movie. Just try and prove me wrong that it's creepy, even for a movie based off of Alice in Wonderland!

C: Is that all?

E: Yes… yes that's all. Okay everyone. You know the drill!

C: Please review to the chapter and tune in soon for the next one!


	9. News

E: Hello everyone! Erik missed you all very much!

C: Welcome to Chapter Nine, titled 'News', as you can see.

E: Ah, yes. Now, I'm going to explain right now that nothing is _blurted_ out-like news, but said subtly. So, you have to pay _très _close attention, or you will miss all the little news snippets entirely!

C: Calm down, Erik. Let's not get worked up over nothing. –sigh- Sometimes I wonder if you are worth the trouble.

E: -whimpers- Christine doesn't mean that, does she?

C: N-no! Of course I don't!

E: Christine is lying! –starts crying-

C: Uh…damn it…ummm, how about we talk about some of the reviews people have left us?

E: -perks up immediately- okay! Erik has noticed, in more than one review posted, that people have commented on the opinion that story Erik seems very OOC.

C: Well, he kinda is if you think about it.

E: _Silence_! Erik is talking now dear, don't interrupt.

C: …

E: Anyways, Erik realizes this statement and has decided to take time out of his busy day to explain this to the people who commented.

C: What time? On top of homework, writing in your other stories, and your friends, when the hell do you have time for explanations.

E: Christine, dearest, shush please. Now, riddle me this (ha ha, I made a Batman funny). In the movie, The Phantom of the Opera, how much do you know about Erik? What was that? Nothing? _That's right, nothing!_ You only see him as this psychotic pedophile (I know, Erik said the P-word, but he had to because…it's true. He doesn't accept it though!) who is obsessed with a sixteen year old dancing girl. Any character development shown in the movie, if you can say there is any at all, is that he ends up truly falling in love with Christine and lets her go because he thinks, or what we are led to believe he thinks, that if Christine is happy with the fop, he will be too.

C: But other than that he has no real character development. For example, in books you basically learn what makes a character tick. What makes them happy, sad, furious, etc. That never happens in the movie.

E: Exactly. So when Erik wrote this story, story Erik's personality was pretty much this giant blob of clay that, as the story progressed and the character's grew more and more, Erik slowly worked the clay of story Erik and shape him into this person that readers can connect with on a far, _far_ deeper level (of compatibility. Ha, eHarmony funny) of emotional understanding than they couldn't do alone with just the movie. At least, that is what Erik likes to believe and that is his true aim. I mean, think about it, this _really_ happened to a poor man. Erik and Christine and the fop all existed once in this world and he went through all this pain and suffering simply because people (like they still are today) can be stupid and selfish and uncaring.

C: And the same goes with Christine. Erik advanced her bland personality to make it seem like the real person she once was.

E: In the story, she is so blank. I mean, really! All she ever does is just whine and complain as two men fight over her then she goes with the wimp. It totally figures.

C: And Raoul is portrayed as everyone always enjoys it, as a person who is a complete idiot wit absolutely no life.

E: So, without further adieu, Chapter Nine ladies!

* * *

Roses of Life

* * *

Echoing footsteps rebounded off the dreary walls of the underground tunnels once belonging to the infamous Phantom of the Opera. A slight breeze caused the ends of the two women's dresses to fluttered past them, but still they trudged onward until they reached the lake where the masked figure had created breathtaking music. Sorelli glanced back at her daughter, Meg, to see if she was keeping up. The young woman was exhausted and was barely able to continue. It had been like this ever since her daughter had returned from Raoul's house a week ago and she just seemed to be getting worse. She had an idea on what it was, but planned on waiting until Meg told her herself.

"Mama, wait," Meg called out quietly as Sorelli reached the slightly opened gate. Both her and her daughter's legs and hips were soaked clean through because of the water and Sorelli was anxious to get to dry land but still she waited until Meg arrived at her side. Panting heavily, though Sorelli knew not why, Meg leaned against the iron bars as she caught her breath.

"Are you okay Meg?" Sorelli asked, placing a caring hand on her daughter's back. The female nodded wearily and, little by little, backed away from the grate. When she did, the gate rose and the two were able to pass and eventually arrive on dry land. Again, Sorelli stopped for Meg as she rested on the piano's seat, clutching her stomach as she bent over, wheezing. "Meg what is wrong?!" her mother asked, terrified. Meg waved her away simply as she managed to stand again.

"Really Mama, I'm okay. I just need to rest when we get to Christine," she explained, irritated, as she passed her mother and went into the curtained corridor. Sighing, Sorelli was about to follow suit but a loud noise from behind her caught her attention instead. Turning around as a loud clanging noise rang in the cavernous room, she saw Felicity fallen at the shoreline of the lake, a brass candleholder beside her.

"_You_!" she hissed as she stormed over to the soaking wet girl and forced her to stand up. Felicity flinched slightly at the grip of the older woman, but she refused to show her fear towards the woman.

"Yes, me," she replied haughtily. Sorelli's eyes narrowed dangerously as the girl stared her down. To Sorelli, she looked ridiculous. Her sopping wet hair clung to her face and head, her white dancing dress she had obviously been practicing in had also been soaked, and Sorelli was able to see straight through the thin fabric, and the young girl was clearly pissed off. "Let. Go," she said crossly as she yanked the arm Sorelli had been holding out her grip and forcefully pushed back the hair away from her face.

"What are you doing here? Why did you follow us?" Sorelli demanded from the girl.

"Because I wanted to see the Phantom, of course," she said with a huff as she lifted her hair up high on the back of her head and tied it all back with a ribbon in her waistband. The heavy tresses easily fell down and the ribbon into the murky water. "_Damn it all_!" she shouted as she reached down and picked up the red cloth. Again, she pulled back the locks, this time at the base of her neck, and forcefully tied the ribbon around it. Sorelli couldn't help but smirk at the girl's short temper.

"And what makes you think I'll allow it?"

"If you don't take me, I'll let this little tip leak out that our very own Madame Giry _and_ her daughter know where both Christine and the Phantom are hiding and even know how to get there," she said nonchalantly. Glaring daggers, Sorelli firmly crossed her arms across her chest.

"And if something was to happen to you if that slipped out?"

"Then you'd be arrested for murder, mutiny, and assisting a murderer," she stated simply, turning to look at the woman. "You can't beat me." A silence passed between the two women until Sorelli let her arms fall to the sides. Instead of leaving them there, one turned the girl around and the other reached into a pocket and took out a thick scarf and wrapped it around Felicity's eyes.

"If you so much as peek I will personally make sure you rue it," she whispered as she took the girl by the shoulders and walked her through the curtain and into the tunnel. Like Meg, she traveled down it until she reached the end and quietly pressed a brick, held it down, then pushed at the fake wall. Waiting until the door closed completely, she then removed the blindfold from Felicity, who stared in wonder at the landscape. "Come along now," she said, walking down the hill and past the girl. "Christine and Meg are waiting for us!"

Still staring at the space before her, Felicity realized that Sorelli was leaving and ran after her until she arrived at her side. It didn't take long until they arrived at the cottage's doorstep and the younger woman hesitated.

"What is it now?" Sorelli said as Felicity held her back.

"My dress…" she said. It was clear as day that it was still wet and the light breeze floating in the air caused two small bumps to show on her chest.

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" Sorelli exclaimed as she grabbed the girl's wrist once more and forced her inside the house. Happy chatter being heard in the other room, she took her into a nearby bedroom and ordered her to remove the dress. As the brunette stood before her, stark naked, she dug through a bag that was placed in the room and took out a blue dress and threw it over to her, taking her wet dress instead. "Get dressed, then you may go into the living room _only_," she warned as she left the room.

When she was outside the room, the chattering had disappeared. Only slightly worried, she walked outside once again and hung the dress over the railing of the porch. Hearing voices towards the back of the house, she traveled around the corner and past the wooden gate into the large garden. Following the stone path, she soon arrived an opening where everyone had gathered together. Christine was sitting on a wooden bench with Meg beside her and Erik stood by a flower bush as the girls talked. Looking up, he smiled as Sorelli walked up to him.

"Hello Sorelli," he said as she walked up beside him.

"Hello Erik, I need to talk to you," she said, glancing towards the women close to them. Nodding, he followed after her, leaving the two females alone. "You should probably brace yourself," Sorelli advised. Erik, curious, stared at her as she led him inside through the back and eventually to the door leading into the living room. "Now, don't lose your temper."

"What could be so bad I would do that?"

"Trust me, it is. Now, just take a deep breath." Erik did as he was told and Sorelli reluctantly opened the door. Easily able to see Felicity sitting quietly on the couch, facing away from the door, his hand shot for his face to feel for his mask. Grabbing the knob, he closed the door and turned to the older woman.

"What is she doing here?!"

"She followed me and Meg, then threatened to turn us over to the police if I didn't take her."

"_C'est de la merde_!" he shouted. Sorelli raised her hands to protect her, but soon brought them down when she realized he didn't plan on hurting her.

"I know you're very upset now-"

"Upset?! Why say that?" he asked, turning around and ramming his fisted hand into the wall. A small shriek emitted through the door. When his fist retracted, there was a small hole in the wall.

"Now just calm down!" Sorelli said, trying to calm the furious man. "She's practically harmless. Besides, I've been keeping an eye on her. Just breathe."

"How can I when I have an _outsider_ in my house?!" he shouted. His face was red with fury and he kept flexing his hands constantly as he looked for something else to destroy. Breathing heavily, he stared at Sorelli, then at the offense door. "Move, Sorelli. Let me deal with the girl."

"I will do no such thing!" she said, moving in front of the door. Erik glared at her, fury radiating off his body as a door opened and slammed close in the background. Neither of the two persons moved from their place. "You will not hurt this girl, Erik. She may be nosey and too curious for her own good, but that's no reason to hurt her."

"Not yet, but if it keeps up, it'll be enough to send her to an early grave."

"_Erik_!" Christine shouted as she walked onto the scene. He didn't flinch, much less turn to look at her. Desperate to find out the situation, she turned to Sorelli. "What happened?"

"We have an extra guest visiting us and Erik got a little bit excited. He's fine now though…" she turned to look at him, "right?" Christine turned to look at him, worried.

"Erik, is that true?"

"Yea…" he muttered. Christine reached out her hand to touch his, trying to calm him down. Instead, he pulled away from her and turned around, walking past her and down the hall. Turning a corner, the two women stood silent until they heard a door slam loudly then, shortly after, angry music begin to play from the depths of the house. A sigh escaped Christine's lips as she leaned against the wall.

"So who is it?"

"A young dancing girl named Felicity. She's quite interested in Erik, and has been following his story for quite some time now. But she's the least of your problems. The managers also hired a detective, Marcel, to search for you and arrest Erik," she explained as she opened the door to the room. Felicity sat in the corner, covering her head as she cowered in fear. "Felicity!" she called out. The girl jumped and turned to look at Sorelli.

"S-should we go?" she offered, terrified.

"You wanted to do this," Sorelli said simply. "Now just stay here for awhile and I'll come back for you soon. We'll leave then. Don't break _anything_," she warned before closing the door. "Do you want us to leave so you can talk to him…?" she asked. Christine shook her head as she walked with her caretaker back into the garden outside where Meg still sat.

"It's fine, just give him some time to calm down and he'll be fine," she said as she sat back down beside Meg. The blonde beside her was now holding a large stack off papers and handed it to Christine as she sat. "Erik wanted to tell you about this, but since he's…busy, I'll give it to you instead," she said as she then passed on the large stack to Sorelli. "He wrote a play and he wants you to give it to the managers. It's really beautiful," she said as Sorelli thumbed through the pages.

"I'm sure they will be joyous to get it," she said sarcastically. Christine smiled back as a reply. Meg smiled at her mother as well.

"Mama, guess what Christine told me?" she said. Sorelli tilted her head slightly and Meg let out another smile. "They're having a wedding in a couple days. Christine wants us to come," she said. Sorelli glanced at Christine, smiling slightly.

"Are you sure Erik would like that?"

"It took me awhile to convince him of it, but I managed. I'm amazed really, he's been so happy lately," she said as she started to stare off into the distance once again. "It's sort of a wake up with the reaction he had," she muttered as Meg held her hand.

"It's okay, Christine," Meg said. "I'm sure it was just a one time thing."

"You're probably right…" she trailed off, still staring. Meg, realizing it was no longer any use trying to cheer up her friend, turned to look back at her mother.

"They're also trying to have a baby," she said, trying to salvage the situation.

"Oh really?" Sorelli said, also assisting in the cause. "What are you hoping for?"

"Oh…Erik talks to my stomach constantly. He likes to think it's a boy even though I'm not pregnant yet," she said, pulling herself out of her daze. Standing up suddenly, she stared at the door before turning her attention back to Sorelli and Meg. "Maybe it's time you should go. Erik is probably starting to wonder where I am," she said, faking a smile as she led her companions back through the house and into the living room where Felicity still sat. The girl jumped at every sound and was clearly a nervous wreck.

Sorelli walked up to her and helped her stand up before leading her through the front door. Meg lingered behind with Christine, unwilling to leave yet.

"Before I go with Mama, I have to tell you something," she whispered quietly as her mother waited for her on the porch. "I haven't told Mama yet either."

"You can tell me Meg, don't worry," Christine soothed as she moved closer to her friend. Inside, she felt like a child again learning a deep dark secret that she was never to speak of again.

"I slept with Raoul." Christine was right about the feeling. Unable to help herself, she stared at her friend in disbelief.

"_What_?! Why?" she questioned. Meg's eyes dashed back and forth between Christine and the area where her mother was waiting.

"I came over to his house because he sent me a letter. He was upset and I was really worried about him. He was drunk and, since I had no intention of leaving till I know he was okay, I had a few drinks myself. Next thing I knew, I woke up beside Raoul, naked, in his bed. He was still asleep so I grabbed my things, got dressed, and left."

"_Bon Dieu_ Meg! What if you're pregnant?"

"I know, I know! That's what I'm hoping _doesn't _happen," she whispered. Glancing once again at the door leading out, she kissed the air beside her friend's cheeks and began walking back towards the outside. "Let's hope it's not true. Good-bye, Christine. Till next time," she said, waving before disappearing through the door.

Sighing in frustration, Christine left the room as well and walked through the house until she arrived to a room close by the empty nursery. Opening the heavy door, muffled music erupted into the air as she traveled down a flight of stairs, leaving the door behind her open. When she reached the bottom, Erik sat before a large organ, his hands slamming against the keys. Quietly, she walked up behind him and he stopped, leaning his head back into Christine's chest as he looked up at her.

"Are they gone?" he asked, his fingers now playing a soft melody. The livid music he created earlier clearly had calmed him down.

"Yes _mon amour_," she answered. Her fingers brushed aside the hair from his face as she kissed him softly. "Sorelli said that she'd give the script to the mangers."

"Good. And guess who the leading soprano will be?" he said, starting to cheer up slightly.

"Who?"

"You, of course. I would never let Carlotta ruin such a masterpiece," he gloated, rested his hands over hers.

"Oh?" she replied. "But I thought that you were selfish," she said, giggling slightly.

"I am, but it seems like such a shame to keep you all to myself," he answered simply as he began kissing her neck.

"But I like it when you keep me all to myself."

"I know," he whispered. "But it'll be the last one if you want it to. I just want to see you one last time on the stage. I want to show you off, since you're mine." Christine smiled softly as she removed his hands from atop hers and turned around so she sat beside him, resting her head against his shoulder.

"Play me a song, Erik," she whispered, suddenly wanting to hear the beautiful music that always seemed to surround her. Placing his hands over the ivories, he followed her wish as he begun playing. His beloved continued to rest beside him, smiling contently as she listened. She was beautiful, her face showing complete ease as he continued the song. As he played and watched Christine, he wished with every fiber in his being that his life would forever be this way.

* * *

French Words Translation for the French-Challenged in This Story:

1. Bullshit

2. Good God (usually damn)

3. My love

E: Like the added thing at the end? –laughs-

C: Erik, that's mean. Someone is going to take offense to that.

E: Nonsense! My readers have a very healthy sense of humor! …Do guys do, don't you?

C: Oh, Erik…Will you ever learn?

E: Of course not, _ma ange_. Oh, oh! That means 'my angel'! I'm amazing, aren't I?

C: Okay, before we get sidetracked completely, let's try and finish up with what you wanted to talk about.

E: Oh, yes, right. I had one specific review that I found very interesting concerning the last chapter. In it, the reader complained that the last chapter seemed like 'just a fill-in'. Erik would like to point out that there is hardly a book in the world that is completely filled with action and twists and turns _and_ is good that is out there. Much less all of that in ever single chapter! Besides, I wanted to use it to introduce María and Zavier. You don't know this now, but they later play a very crucial role.

C: We have everything planned out. Quite detailed too, might I had. So, we're sorry that we could not meet up to your standards, but Erik can only do so much.

E: I may portray this amazingly god-like man, but in reality I am nothing more than a mere teenage girl who uses her writing to get away from her life and vent out her emotions. I know, no one wants to hear it, but it's true. Besides, I have to juggle so many other things at once _and_ still have to appear happy and peppy, so Erik is sorry that he failed you.

C: So, in case you can't tell, Erik is very tired.

E: Erik had a breakdown earlier Sunday afternoon, so yes, he's not in the absolute greatest of his many moods. Lots of disappointment being spread around.

C: So we might as well end it on this note. To the reader who wrote the review, we have no means on insulting you. Erik and I both just wanted to point it out is all. So please don't take offense.

E: So, to everyone, please join us for the next trilling chapter.

C: Good-bye all! Please review.


	10. Close Encounters

C: Welcome one and all to the tenth chapter of Roses of Life!

E: We are both so very, _very_ excited about this! Erik has worked so hard these past few months and he made it to the double digits. To celebrate, Erik is watching Sweeny Todd and later on The Phantom of the Opera, 1973 version.

C: And I'm at Disneyland! Thank god for ROTC.

E: Still hate it personally…I'll keep my musicals, thank you.

C: Sure…Okay, we just want to say one thing before we send off this chapter and it is in regards to the change in genre's.

E: Erik has decided that, seeing as he has looked back on the events leading up to this chapter, this story more fits under the genre of 'drama'. It's not so much of a romance comedy. Mainly, when I think of a romance comedy, I think J.D. and Elliot from Scrubs and this is far from it, especially in this chapter.

C: So Roses of Life is now under the genre of Romance/Drama. Pray that you know how to find this or you will have a big problem finding it if you rely on genre alone.

E: Not that many people do. So please, Erik implores you to read the chapter.

C: We'll see you at the ending author's notes.

* * *

Roses of Life

* * *

Hair twirling, skirts fluttering, and voices rebounding across the stage. This was what Sorelli surrounded herself in as she instructed her students. It wasn't rehearsal, seeing as she hadn't given the managers the script yet, but everyone was still hard at work. The ballet girls talked to each other as they perfected their form. Finally sure of herself that she was able to leave her girls by themselves, she traveled backstage and towards her room. Finding it empty, as expected, she sat herself comfortably down on the chair and took hold of the large play and opened the front of it. "You've outdone yourself, Erik," she muttered under her breath as she thumbed through the pages. Finding another note in the back, she removed it from amongst it brethren and scanned her eyes over it.

I realized that you forgot to inform me that I have a detective on both me and Christine's tail. This is what this play is for. I knew that this would only be a matter of time, so I planned ahead. The both of us have talked about it, and we decided that, since Christine is going to star in it, we will lay out a plan to avoid his 'trap'. Don't ask much about it, let's just say that he'll wish that he would have left us alone.

_-Erik_

A sigh escaping her pale lips, Sorelli folded the paper then threw it into the dying fire, watching it slowly begin to burn. Secretly, she was worried for what he had in store for the opera house. His traps never ended up well in the end. It was only yesterday since she had visited the couple, and she wanted to go again to make sure that the two of them were okay. Fingers playing across the words, her head jerked up as she heard the door to her room open. Seething rage began to boil deep inside of her as she saw Marcel stand in front of the doorway. Smirking, he backed away then walked down the hallway. Curious as to what he was up to, Sorelli followed after him and into Christine's old bedroom, seeing him searching through it. "What are you doing?!" she demanded.

"Most of the clothes in here are missing," he noted. Sorelli's eyes narrowed as she glared at him.

"_Since_ it appears that Miss Daaé will not be _returning_, I'm cleaning out the _space_," she replied through gritted teeth. "We need the _room_." Marcel simply smiled at her as he gave the room a quick survey, then walked past her for the second time. _Damn it!_ she thought as, once again, she tailed him back to her own room. Walking inside, she saw him looking through the belongings on her desk. Unable to her back her gasp, she stormed inside and yanked away the photo he held in his hands. "_What_ are you_ doing_?!" she shouted. Marcel simply glanced up at her then, digging into his coat pocket, took out a piece of paper and giving it to her.

"A warrant. It allows me to search your room," he explained.

"I know what a warrant is! Where did you get it? Only the courts can issue those!"

"They did, Madame Giry. I retrieve it this morning. It seems that the judge agrees with me, that we need to find Miss Daaé…and soon." Moving away from the desk, he walked over to the fireplace and bent down beside it. A strained silence passed before it was broken by Marcel once again. "Where is your daughter, Madame?"

"She's taking a day off today and went out to the city," Sorelli said, her voice reeking off hatred and disgust with the question.

"I see…" he said, reaching into the ashes and embers. Retreating his hand, he held a single scrap of paper, with 'Erik' written onto it. Standing slowly, he took out a handkerchief and placed the brunt scrap in it. "Don't get worked up, Madame, but you are now the prime suspect in Christine's disappearance."

"That is ridiculous," Sorelli stated as she walked over to her desk and replaced the picture she had been holding. Brushing the glace, she stared at the picture of her and her daughter until she was forced back to the present as Marcel stood before her.

"Some of my men and I will come and see you later. If you don't have anything to hide, then there is nothing to fear."

"I don't know what you're talking about. That letter was not from who you think it is."

"The handwriting appears the same," he responded to her. Again, his steel eyes gazed into hers, as if he was trying to force the veil of secrecy she had away to see her darkest secrets. "Are you harboring secrets from me about the Phantom?"

"You have no idea. You're just guessing. That's the only thing that is legible in the first place. Besides, the Phantom never signs his letters 'Erik'." Marcel stared at her again, his eyes capturing hers, refusing to let go.

"Just start counting your days," he muttered before he finally turned heel and left the room.

* * *

Waking up from a deep, restful sleep, Christine found herself beside Erik as usual. The only difference this time was they weren't anywhere close to their bedroom, much less their own bed. Turning her head, she saw that Erik still slumbered and gentle lifted herself up away from him.

"And where do you think you're going?" Erik mumbled, his words slurred as sleep try to keep its hold on him. Christine froze, smiling slightly, as he wrapped an arm around her thin waist and force her to lay with him again. Feeling his burning skin against her, she moved closer for the warmth as she realized how cold it was. It was then she noticed; they were both completely naked.

"What'd we do last night?" she mumbled, trying to remember what happened after she went downstairs to Erik after Meg and Sorelli left. Smiling, Erik buried his face into her hair as he gently kissed the top of her head.

"We tried for a baby, love," he stated simply, resting his head atop hers. Silk slid across her skin as she sat up again, Erik still firmly attached to her. "No…" he said as he yanked her back down onto the bed. It was obvious he still wanted to sleep, but had absolutely no intention of doing it without her beside him. Giggling, he held his head in her arms as he closed his eyes. Watching him listen to her heartbeat, she slowly stroking his jet-black hair and let her mind wonder.

"Erik…" she said, suddenly remembering something. "Erik, dear, Meg is coming over later. Remember? Before Sorelli came you promised you'd take us out to the city?" He groaned in reply as he propped himself up on his elbows to look at her.

"Please tell me that I promised for later today?" Christine shook her head.

"No, Erik. Besides, it's past noon. Now, come on. Let's get out of bed and get ready before she gets here," Christine urged patiently. Letting out another groan of displeasure, he forced himself to sit up completely and reached over to the other side of the bed they had fallen asleep on. Not bothering with her own clothes, Christine walked out of the room and saw that they were still in the underground chamber that was Erik's spare room containing his organ. Christine frowned, suddenly feeling saddened that Erik still seeked refuge and safety below the soil.

"I might have to punish you later for waking me up, Christine," Erik teased her, walking up behind her as he covered her waist in his arms.

"Oh really?" she teased back. Smiling in return, Erik picked her up easily and began to carry her out of the room and back to their own bedroom. Returning to their shared bedroom, he placed her on the plush bed then he strode up to the large dresser containing her clothes and picked out a simple dress that was a lilac in color with white trim.

"Yes, really," he said as he sat behind her. Leaning back so she rested against his chest, she watched lazily as Erik dressed her. "You're just like my little doll," he whispered into her ears as his hands idly wandered. One traveled upward and slipped through the collar of her dress and the other rested in between her leg, pressing against her. Christine was unable to help but whimper softly as the above hand found her nipple and rolled it between two fingers till it hardened with need.

"I'll be whatever you want me to be," she whispered back, leaning her head back as he began to cover her neck in kisses. Closing her eyes, she could feel her face flush as he continued to torment her. However, he stopped as a knock was heard from the front door. "Meg's here," she stated.

"She can wait," Erik muttered. Laughing softly, she pushed him gently away from her as she quickly ran a brush through her hair then walked up to the aged wood. When she opened it, Meg stood before her smiling and the two girls embraced. As they talked happily, Erik came walked out fully dressed with a hat held low over his face and holding Christine's jacket in his hand. "It's going to get cold," he said as she took it from him.

Without anything left to retrieve, the group started out and, with much thanks to the passageway, managed to arrive a way off from the Opera Populaire and on the bustling streets. Holding onto Christine's hand, he allowed the girls to lead him deeper into the city.

* * *

Some time had passed and before long the sun was begin to retreat to the other side of the horizon. The trio, not following the path of the sun, still bustled about excitedly. That is to say, Meg and Christine did as they dragged along Erik who had long ago been driven to the point of exhaustion. It wasn't to stay that he was weak or anything, but traveling with two women filled with unending energy were proving to best him. Within the span of a short four hours, the girls had caused him to walk around the city totaling a distance more than he had moved in his entire life.

"Erik?" Christine asked, turning around to see him about to pass out. He appeared, if it was possible, paler than he already was. Sighing with worry, she motioned towards Meg who helped him into a nearby pub and into a booth in the far back.

"Are you two trying to kill me?" he questioned as he bent over onto the wood, gasping for breath. They both laughed in unison as Christine placed a caring hand on his back.

"Meg and I just want to stop at one more place."

"Okay, just give me a minute and I'll be good," he muttered breathlessly. Christine shook her head.

"You'll stay right here. Just rest up, okay? The place is just down the street. We'll be fine, we're both adults."

"And women," he added, managing to stand up once again on shaky legs.

"Don't be stubborn," Meg said, joining in with Christine. The man heaved a sigh as the two women forced him to sit back down on the chair.

"We'll be in and out in five, ten minutes tops," Christine assured him. Looking up at her, he closed his eyes, thinking, then nodded his approval. Smiling, she kissed his cheek then hugged him. She knew that he still was completely against it, but was still excited that he was sacrificing his comfort for her happiness. It was with that thought that she left the tavern with Meg beside her and stepped into the crisp night air. As they both walked outside, Erik noticed as two men near the front eyed them, smiling. Holding a small, quiet conversation between each other, the two men shook hands then got up and went outside too. Getting an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach, Erik lowered his hat and stood.

Tightening her coat around her, she walked with Meg down the few blocks to the store they wanted to stop by and entered into the warm room. "Hello, Mademoiselles," the store clerk said cheerily as the bell above the door chimed. Meg and Christine both smiled and waved as they gazed through the store.

"Oh, Christine, look at this!" Meg said happily as she arrived at a glassed counter. Pointing at a necklace, Christine gasped as well at the stunning beauty. A silver, delicate chain held a small onyx set into a slightly larger diamond. The design was simple, yet breath-taking. This had been the fifth jewelry shop the two girls had gone window shopping in.

Christine tried to look through the rest of the shop, but still kept coming back to the beautiful necklace until, with reluctance, she had to leave as the shop closed. Stepping outside, she noticed that the air turned bitter with cold. Bracing herself, she huddled close to her friend and managed to make their way out onto the street. Suddenly, Meg stopped her as she turned to look behind her.

"I thought I heard something…" she whispered to Christine as she stared nervously into the darkness. Christine shook her head as she pushed her friend onward.

"Probably nothing. Let's get going before we get lost," Christine muttered, slightly irritated at how absurd her friend was acting. As they continued to walk on, again Meg stopped as she turned around completely.

"I swear to God, Christine, I heard something!" she insisted as they both stared at the darkness.

"Don't be silly. Come on, we need to leave," Christine said sternly. Turning around and walking forward, she ran straight into a large man standing before her. "I-I'm so sorry," she stuttered, trying to compose herself.

"It's okay ma'am," the man said, smiling at her. For some reason, Christine found the smile odd. Nervously, she smiled back at him as she held onto Meg's hand. "So…what's wrong with you're friend there?"

"Oh…she's just hearing things," Christine said timidly, backing away from the man slightly. The man was still smiling as he looked past the two girls.

"Don't always be so sure of yourself," he muttered in response. Before Christine could reply, she felt a sharp object press itself against her neck and her mouth was covered by a filthy hand.

"Don't scream, goldy, or your friend here will bleed all over the place," the man behind Christine said to Meg as the taller man in front of them walked up behind Meg. "Now, place nice girlies and we won't hurt your pretty faces," he muttered as he led the two women down a side street and into an abandoned alleyway. Shoving the two girls onto the ground, they both stood in front of the only exit.

"I call the brown-haired one," the shorter one said, staring at Christine. Wrapping her coat around her, she attempted to shield herself from his view. The taller one shook his head in disagreement.

"We can't. Haven't you read the paper? They got a reward on her for her return," the taller one said.

"What if she squeals?"

"We can just rip out her voice?" the taller one offered, looking down now at Meg. "We can blame it on the Phantom. Besides, I prefer the blonde myself."

"Deal then?" The taller one smiled as he reached into his pocket and took out a knife. The metal glinted in the soft moonlight, causing a chill to shoot down Christine's spine. Was she going to die?

"Deal," the other man said as he gazed lustfully at Meg. Crossing each other's path, the larger man grabbed Christine, lifting her up as the other grabbed Meg and shoved her forcefully into the wall.

"_No_!" Meg screamed, tears falling down her face as the man's filthy hands grabbed towards her. Quick as lightening, the man pressed a knife to her neck and whispered something to her that caused her to visibly tremble.

"I wouldn't worry about her if I were you," the man next to Christine whispered. "Now, just be real still and this'll only hurt a bit." Christine closed her eyes, praying for a miracle to happen, for Erik to show up and save them both. When she opened them again, she nearly thought she was dreaming.

"And if I were you," a familiar deep voice muttered to her assailant, "I wouldn't touch her." The man, clearly caught off guard, whipped around to face his opponent only to scream out in a sudden pain. "Christine, leave!" the voice demanded from her. Terrified, she readily complied as she stepped away and up against the wall, doubled over in fetal position.

Erik watched as the man that was about to hurt Christine fell onto the floor, writhing in pain. Looking up to Meg, he saw that the man that was holding her down now stared at him in shock. "The fuck!? Claude, talk to me!" the man shouted, staring down at the bleeding man. Lifting his head to look at Erik, he retracted the knife from Meg's neck and held it out in front of him. "You bastard! You killed Claude! I fucking kill you!" the man shouted as he backed away from Meg. The girl, her emotions and adrenaline at its limits, passed out onto the ground.

"Oh really?" Erik said, bored, as the man rushed towards him. Side-stepping, he grabbed the man's arm and snapped it in two like a twig. Screaming in a horrible pain, the man fell to the floor, holding his arm. The bloody bone protruded a good two inches from his skin and his arm bent in a sickly manner. Smirking, he stepped over the man as if he was trash and walked up to Meg, still passed out. Easily able to pick her up, he carried her gently as he walked up to Christine. Wrapping his cape around her, he covered her face as she stood. "Just follow me," he whispered as he took her hand in his. Feeling her tremble, he frowned as they walked back to the inn.

Stepping into the warmth, he walked up to the owner, still carrying Meg, and held out a handful of gold coins. "Your best room for the night. Full meals and candles," he ordered as he slammed the coins down onto the counter. Taking the money, the managers silently handed Erik the key and together him and Christine walked up the stairs until they arrived in the two bed room. Laying Meg down on the bed furthest from the door, Erik turned to Christine and wrapped his arms tightly around her, still feeling her tremble.

"I almost lost you…" he whispered, burying his face into her shoulder as he held onto him as well.

"I'm okay Erik. Really, I am," she whispered back.

"No, you're not," Erik said sternly as he backed away and held her head in his large hands. "God, Christine, you were almost _killed_!" Tears begin to form in her brown eyes as she thought back to what nearly happened to her and realized that he was right. "I should have gone with you. To hell with your 'I'll be fine', Christine!" he shouted. Water falling down her face, she buried her face in his chest as she began crying.

Sighing, Erik held her gently in his arms until she managed to regain her composure again. "I-I'm so sorry…" was all she was able to say. Keeping silent, Erik helped her towards the other bed and guided her so she was resting on her side, gazing at him with glistening eyes.

"Just go to sleep. We'll go home tomorrow morning, alright?" he whispered, brushing back her curls from her face. Gazing longingly at him, she held out her arm and took his hand.

"Don't go," she muttered, terrified.

"I have some unfinished business to attend to, love. Now, just go to sleep and when you wake up I'll be right here next to you," he said, trying to smooth over her worries as he took the blanket from the bed and rested it over her. Kissing her forehead, he grabbed his cape and reattached it to his body before leaving the room.

Making his way out of the building, he took his mask out from a hidden pocket and placed it onto his face before readjusting the hat he wore. After he was sure that his identity was completely concealed, he made his way back to the alley he was in earlier, but found the two men missing. Looking down onto the dirt ground, he saw a large trail of blood leading out. Smiling, he followed the route like a cat stalking a mouse and soon came upon an abandoned apartment. Like a breeze on a summer day he slipped through the door and into the hallway.

Seeing the blood lead into a door, he stood beside it as he heard the two men conversing. "I swear to god, Claude, I thought you were dead! Damn fucking bastard sure hit you hard."

"Like you're one to talk! Your arm is all fucked up James! Jesus Christ, that man is bat-shit crazy," Claude said as the other man moaned in pain. A silence went on until Claude finally spoke again. "I'll be right back. Lemme go and get some more bandages," he said before the sound of chairs being pushed back replaced the voices. Hiding in the shadows of the wall, he watched as Claude opened the door and limped outside and down the opposite hall. Slowing his breathing so he was completely silent, he peered around the corner to see that the other man was looking out the window.

Moving quietly inside, Erik stood behind him, still silent as he watched the man gaze out at the scenery. "Make any sound and I'll kill you where you stand," Erik whispered quietly as the man jumped in surprise. About to turn around, Erik forced him to look ahead as he leaned in close to his ear. "So, your friend thinks I'm crazy, does he?"

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," the man said shakily. Taking out a large knife from its holder, Erik held the shining metal up to the man's neck and pressed against it slightly.

"Don't lie to me James," he whispered dangerously. "Never lie to the Phantom."

"Claude is right," the man said bravely, sweat dripping down his face. "You're fucking crazy!"

"You nearly killed Christine," he responded. "Anyone who touches my beloved pays in flesh."

"Don't kill me. Please, don't kill me," the man begged pathetically. Erik smiled. Grabbing the man's shoulders, he turned the man around before he took off his mask. Staring at him, eyes filled with fear, the man trembled as he saw Erik's face.

"Now, pay the fine," Erik whispered, smiling. Raising the hand holding the knife, he drove the blade deep into the man's chest. Gasping as blood filled his lungs, the man violently trembled as he fell to the floor, the dagger slipping effortlessly out of the wound. The red liquid pooled below his body, but Erik was far from being finished. Having to hold back for so long around Christine, he now lost control to the man that long ago crossed the line.

Taking a fistful of hair, he pulled the living man's head back and pressed the blade close to his forehead. Making sure it was in the skin, he ran it back until his scalp fell away and the man fell down, dead. Trembling slightly from the rush of adrenaline, he wanted to do so much more but forced himself to hold back until Claude arrived. He was who Erik was after, the man that tried to harm Christine.

"James! You there!" Claude called out. Panting slightly, he tossed aside the scalp then lifted the body and shoved it into the closet. Pressing his body into the wall by the door, he watched as it opened and Claude hobbled into the room. "James! Where the hell did you go!?"

"To the fiery depths of hell where he belongs." Walking behind the man, he rammed his fist hard into Claude's ribs, causing him to fall down. Moaning in pain, Erik immediately began to kick the man's stomach until he started coughing up the red liquid that made Erik's heart race. Flipping him over to where he laid on his back, he raised his knife again and smiled manically. "Join him," he said before he drove the knife deep in the man's eyes. Screaming at the top of his lung, Claude shouted out a string of curses as blood spurted out and covered both him and Erik. But still, he didn't stop.

Letting his instincts take complete control over him, Erik bent over the squirming body and took hold of his shirt. "Oh God. Jesus Christ. You're the devil! Satan walking amongst the living!" the man said, writhing in the stronger man's grasp. Not paying the least bit of attention to what Claude was saying, he threw him onto the chair. "Please, sir, please…!" the man begged. It was his last words, though, as Erik took the bloody dagger and drove it into the man's neck.

Blood sprayed the surrounding area as he retracted the knife and began to mercilessly stab the man over and over and over again. By the time all the blood had drained from his body, Erik finally stopped the stabbing. Picking up the lifeless corpse, he laid it on the bed and began to carve his flesh away from his bones, finishing off with decapitating him. Throwing the head to the corner of the room, he dipped him fingers in the pooled blood and wrote a note in the only blank space of wall.

When the task was finished, Erik casually walked out of the room and down the hall into what he supposed was the bathroom. Going up to he sink, he turned on the water and began washing the blood off from his skin. Doing the same with his clothes, he waited until they were completely dry before donning them once again and leaving the house. By that time, midnight had come and gone. Making his way back to the pub, he strode wordlessly into the room and to Christine's bedside.

Seeing she was still fast asleep, he bent down beside her and placed his hand on the side of her face. "Now one can touch you," he whispered as he gently brushed back the hair from her face. "You belong to me now and me only," he muttered. Leaning forward, he softly kissed her lips before withdrawing away and through the door where he spent the rest of the night downstairs.

* * *

E: Who liked the chapter!?

C: That was…violent.

E: Well everyone was saying about how Erik seemed too happy and OOC, so he snapped. –smiles-

C: But…why so drastically?

E: Because he's already a murderer. So what if he kills a few more guys? Less people to feed, after all.

C: Erik!

E: Christine, I don't know what you're talking about…

C: -sigh s- So I'm supposing you had lots of fun with this chapter then?

E: Tons. –smirks- Erik hopes that everyone liked it. Please review, as always. Can't wait to see everyone next chapter.

C: Goodbye everyone.


	11. The Article

E: I'm so happy! Yay, party! –blows obnoxious horn-

C: …

E: Everyone liked the last chapter! Oh, none of you have any idea how happy you made Erik…-sniffles-

C: Quit crying, you're just fine…

E: -hugs tightly- I LOVE YOU SO MUCH CHRISTINE NO STORY COULD EVER REPLACE YOU _EVER_!

C: Okay, okay, I get the picture! Calm down, breath!

E: Erik doesn't need to breathe! What is this thing you call air? It fascinates me ever so much…

C: Well…since we've completely lost Erik, I might as well take the reins now. We are both very happy that everyone enjoyed the chapter so much and that Erik (for now, me) wanted to explain something.

E: -sing-song voice- Air, air, wonderful air. Why must you always escape me? –voice turns dark- _I thought you loved me?!_

C: And it was to anybody who noticed it because Erik tried hard too. The reason why Erik is so OOC is because he is trying to change for Christine. Think about it, if you finally got a girl who you are madly in love with and obsessing over, you'd try to improve too. Anyways, he finally was as he originally was, and will be in future chapters, whenever he snaps.

E: Catch me, air! –grabs a chair, puts it down, stands on it and then jumps off-

C: Erik! –watches helplessly as he falls- Oh my…

E: …Air! You bitch! You betrayed me… -walks over to Christine- Mine…

C: -pats head- Good boy…Well, happy reading!

* * *

Roses of Life

* * *

The scene was gruesome to say the least. Blood dripped over the walls like a fresh coat of paint and hung onto every inch of available space. The scent of blood, flesh, and overwhelming pain echoed in the tiny room and nearly took over the man who stood before it now. Stepping inside, Marcel's gaze swept across the room. Glancing down at the notes he had received from the police, he headed over to the closet where one of the bodies was left. Opening the door, he gazed at the man who hung lifeless from a brass hook in the back. A gashing wound was encrusted in dried blood as well as the missing skin from his forehead back. The flesh left over was a bright pink and bits of white showed through. The detective also noted that the man's right arm was broken. It was strange though. Marcel supposed that the dead man had suffered the injury earlier, began to nurse the wound, and then later on was killed.

No longer wishing to look upon the man, he closed the door and turned back to face the horrifying picture. Now walking up to the bed, where the other body laid, he examined the corpse with his piercing eyes. By far it was worse than the other one. Neck severed violently, the head was tossed carelessly in the room and the flesh was still a bright red. The man's torso had portions of flesh carved away from him, and a deep puncture wound was easily noticeable in the man's neck, an earlier injury on his chest, and his eye. Carved onto the man's bloody chest was 'sinner'.

"My, my," Marcel muttered. "Violent sort this man is, no?" he asked, the question directed to no one in particular. Finally turning to the last piece of evidence, he stared at the note on the wall, written in blood: _Never shall I forgive those who tread onto ground which they are not worthy of. Never will I let men try to steal that which is most sacred, then allow them to think themselves above me. All people are born with original sin, and for adding onto this by harming her, they must suffer._

"Any clue, Lafayette?" a man, just entering the room, asked him. Shaking his head, Marcel reread the words.

"Seems it has to do with something about a woman," he commented. "Perhaps these men tried to harm her and the murderer came to take vengeance?"

"Possible," the man muttered. "I wouldn't be the first time that it would have happened, Lafayette. I've been in Paris for far too long."

"I know the feeling, officer," Marcel agreed, rubbing his forehead as he thought. "Been thinking of taking the missus out; kids too. England, maybe."

"Well, until then we need to solve this, and fast. All we know for a fact is that this happened late last night. Ain't you tied up with another case also?" Marcel blinked, something deep in his head clicking. Taking a camera the officer had brought with him, he snapped a quick picture of the sickening note and handed it back to the officer.

"Yes, actually, I am. I should be getting back to that, as a matter of fact. Get that thing developed and bring it back to me. I have some business to attend to."

* * *

_Massacre of Men Leaves Officers Baffled._

_Late at night, a mysterious stranger walked into an apartment building where two men were staying and slaughtered them ruthlessly. This was the scene that the officers walked into to after they received at tip. The woman who first witnessed the ghastly crime, Mademoiselle Clémentine Robin (age 26), was able to tell reporters exactly what she came upon._

_Coming in early the morning after the incident, she had wanted to see how her brother (Claude Robin, 29) and his friend (James Noë, 28) where holding up after she had last seen them heading to the local tavern for a drink. Upon entering the abode, she sensed an unsettling feeling and rushed to the two men's bedroom where she saw them butchered up like market meat. Instantly hurrying down to the police, officers soon arrived to the apartment and quickly took over. Miss Robin is currently staying with her grieving sister and any further details on the case are being kept closely guarded. _

_As of 8:34 a.m. the renowned detective Marcel Lafayette was hired and brought to the scene for inspection. Lafayette is currently working on another case, involving the murders of several men and the kidnapping of rising soprano Christine Daaé by the Phantom of the Opera, otherwise known as the infamous Opera Ghost. As he was seen leaving the scene, he disclosed with us that he believed he knew who the executioner was and that it involved his current case._

* * *

"Erik, what the _hell_ were you thinking!" Sorelli nearly screamed as she stood before the Phantom. Erik shrugged his broad shoulders, clearly indifferent to the whole matter. Sorelli's rage could hardly be contained as she had to grip her hands on the chair's arm to stop herself from losing it. "You could have been _caught_!"

"But I wasn't," Erik replied nonchalantly. About to break something over his head, she grabbed the morning's paper and threw it at him, the headline blaring.

"_You might as well have been_!" she shrieked. Erik simply blinked as a reply before he actually bothered to pick up the paper and read the article. Suddenly, his eyes widened as he stood, dropping the paper onto the ground. "See?" Sorelli said, finally beginning to calm down.

"_Fuck_!" he shouted, grabbing the edge of an empty table and flipping it over as he kicked the wood. Sorelli couldn't hold back her smirk.

"So you can completely lose it and destroy your belongings and I can't?" she asked, teasing. Erik glared at her.

"Don't test me." Falling back down into the chair, he ran his fingers through his raven hair, letting out a frustrated sigh. "God, I hope Christine doesn't read that paper."

"Speaking of which, where is she?" Erik smiled slightly, despite being infuriated with the outcome of last night's outing.

"With Meg. They're picking out her dress since the last one got lost." Sorelli raised an eyebrow questioningly. "They're fine. I walked them to the store and gave strict orders to the owner not to let them out of his sight. They'll be busy for awhile."

"I see…" she muttered, standing as well and picking up the fallen paper. "So, what did you do afterwards?"

"Went back to the inn after I washed off all traces, then stayed downstairs. Before she woke up, I left a rose for her and she walked downstairs, smiling. It made me so happy, Sorelli, so I didn't bring it up. Besides, what would she say?"

"You have a point, but she is going to find out sooner or later," Sorelli advised.

"Not if I have any say in it," he replied gravely.

* * *

The red petals were absolutely beautiful. The color was so dark, yet so light. It completely sent Christine into a sense of amazement. "Did you and Meg have fun?" her fiancé, Erik, asked her as she sat at the dining able, awaiting dinner.

"Mm-hm." Placing the rose down on he table, she smiled up at Erik as he walked over to her and placed her plate of food in front of her. Steamed vegetables with chicken was what was on the menu for tonight, and she hungrily dug in. Never before had she felt so hungry in her life. Sitting beside her, Erik also partook of his share of the meal and soon both plates were empty. It wasn't a long time, and after Erik put the dishes away they followed their daily ritual and walked together out into the garden.

Twilight had come and she gazed in wonder as the sun began to dip below the surface of the land. Erik held her close to him as night slowly crept over them. "Every time I see it, I just fall more and more in love," she said, smiling contently.

"I know the feeling," Erik whispered. Smiling at each other, Erik led her further into the garden until they arrived at a small plot of blooming moon flowers. Beside that was a circular building. Having shown it to her earlier and issuing a challenge for her to find the way inside, she had yet accomplished the task.

"I wish I knew what was in there," she commented, feeling lucky that particular night. Placing his hand on her waist as the other took her hand, he gazed at it, thinking deeply.

"Would you like to see?"

"It would just make the night absolutely _perfect_," she replied. Grinning, Erik took her up to the stone walls and pressed against one of the many panels against each side of the building. Instead of staying still like any stone, it gave way and the couple was easily able to walk through it. Stepping inside, Christine nearly fainted at the beauty of it. The walls of the interior were nothing but mirrors. Ivy had taken over and laid its claim on the territory, but it only seemed to add to the splendor. In the middle, raised on a platform, a stone fountain rested. Although the water had long ago dried up, the statue of _la Sainte Vierge_ was still awe inspiring.

"Erik…" she whispered softly, taken away by the magnificence of it all. Holding her gently in his arms, he kissed her forehead.

"This is where I was hoping we would get married. Before the Blessed Virgin," he explained, leading her up to the statue. The woman stare down peacefully with blank eyes, holding a baby child in her arms as her other arm was raised in blessing. Christine was unable to tear her eyes way, it gave off such an unexplained feeling that she didn't want to look away. "That is," Erik said, forcing her away from her daydreaming, "if you want to."

"What could possibly make me say no?" she questioned. Erik smiled in reply and captured her lips in his. It was like that, both of them standing in the mirrored room, until they agreed to seek refuge from the cold. Walking inside the warm house, Erik headed to their bedroom and Christine stayed behind to clean up the living room.

She found it strange that one of the tables was turned over and papers strewn everyone, but she supposed Erik flew into one of his rages when she was out and simply began picking up, trying to dismiss the thought of what could have upset him. It was soon answered as she picked up a piece of newspaper and read it.

Murder in a Night. Two men slaughtered and detective Lafayette put onto the case. Reporters, from his insight, are led to believe that they have some connection to the mysterious Opera House murders conducted by the Phantom of the Opera, who disappeared with the lead soprano and is currently being searched for. Details on page 13.

Christine, shocked at the summary's claim, spent the rest of her time in the room looking for page 13. It was all for naught, however, as she unable to find the page. Confused, she placed down the other pages she had collected and solemnly walked into their shared bedroom.

"Something wrong?" Erik asked her as she entered the room. Pausing, she debated in her mind whether she should tell him, then decided against it. If he did indeed commit the crime, it was very unlikely that he would admit to it. For now, that is.

"No, Erik. I'm fine," she replied as he walked up to her. She took comfort in his warmth as he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her passionately. Deep inside, she knew that he knew something was wrong. It made her slightly happy that he wasn't going to bother her with it, but still. As they made love that night, it seemed so off for her. It was great, as it had always been since their first time, but she could not take her mind off the newspaper and it distracted her a great deal.

"Christine?" Erik asked afterwards as they lay in each other arms. Feeling exhausted, she managed to look up at him as he brushed her hair away.

"I promise Erik," she whispered quietly, "I'm okay."

"Do you want to go see a doctor?" he asked, her promise doing nothing to his worries.

"No, Erik, I don't," she mumbled. "I'm just fine, I swear. Just a little tired, that's all." Able to tell that he still wasn't satisfied with her answer, she felt a great sense of relief that he dropped the subject. A silence, one of the few that ever happened between them, passed and Christine tried to stay awake with sleep waiting to pounce on her. "Erik…what's your last name?"

"…What?" he said, clearly confused at the question. She was unable to suppress her small laugh.

"You know, a last name? Like mine is Daaé," she explained. "What's yours?"

"I…" he hesitated. "I…don't know." Christine frowned slightly. It was clear the question troubled him greatly and she was beginning to wish she hadn't asked as he stayed silent, trying to dig up the long forgotten, possibly never known, information.

"Well, we can't get married without one, love," she said simply. A frown line appeared on Erik's forehead as he kept getting more frustrated.

"I know, I know," he muttered. Christine too fell into a silence as she thought as well. Not for his name, but a new one, for the both of them.

"How about a new name?" she offered. "Like Garnier?" Pausing, she awaited his reaction to the suggestion. Slowly, the frown line went away as he obviously considered the thought.

"Where'd you think of something like that?" he asked, curious.

"It was the last name of the man who built the Opera Populaire. And I thought that since we've both lived most our lives that it would be a fitting name," she explained.

"I suppose then," he whispered, trying the name out in his mind. Erik Garnier. Christine Garnier. It didn't sound too bad, likeable even. "Alright, dear. Garnier it is," he agreed, kissing the top of her head. Smiling happily, she rested beside him once again as he held her close to him. "My lovely child," he whispered, moving so his head was resting on her stomach.

"It'll have your eyes. I know it," she said, wrapping her arms around his head as he whispered to her stomach.

"But she'll look just like you," he added, gently kissing her stomach. "Isn't that right, ma chérie? You'll look just like your pretty mother," he whispered quietly. Giggling, Christine gave him a questioning look.

"A girl now? Last I thought, you said it was a boy."

"I know now, though. It's a darling little girl inside you, Christine. I should have known immediately," he teased as he continued to softly sing to her stomach. The sight nearly brought her to tears as she watched the tender moment. Suddenly, all her worry before from the newspaper vanished. The man before her, talking so lovingly to a life not yet even created could not possibly take another life away so easily. It had to be a misunderstanding, that was the only way the whole thing could make any sense to her, that he was being framed because of the opera incident.

"I love you, Erik…"she whispered, bending over to kiss the top of his head. Smiling against her stomach, he glanced up to her.

"And I love you both as well." Christine closed her eyes listening to the soft lullaby Erik sung. Falling asleep, she reassured herself that it was all a mistake. There was no way on Earth that Erik could've possibly done what the stupid article had claimed.

* * *

E: See how much calmer story Erik is around Christine?

C: Yes, Erik, we get it.

E: Erik is so happy! Again!

C: What is it about this time?

E: Erik has found a way to self-publish his books for thousands to read!

C: That'd be plagiarism, wouldn't it?

E: Not this story! My babies, my beloved children I've spent nearly a year writing now!

C: I see…

E: Also, anyone notice how quickly Erik updates all the time? Just hinting, you might want to come on more often –winks-

C: Also, if you just started reading this story and are here at this point, please do not be afraid to review on all the chapter if you feel like it.

E: So review for this! Do it for Erik! He loves it so much!

C: Read up for the next chapter! Bye everyone.


	12. Wedding Day

E: Ah, I haven't seen this movie in awhile…Good ol' West Side Story….

C: Have you just been obsessed with watching movies lately?

E: Yes! Erik is so excited! His idol, his muse, his God has a new movie coming out and _I must watch it_!!!!!!

C: Tim Burton…

E: Yes, Tim Burton! God, that man is an absolutely _genius_! And the movie came out five days earlier than expected! God, I'm having an obsessed-fan-heart-attack moment.

C: Okay, then, take a deep breath and think of someone else.

E: …Johnny Depp… -starts drooling as I stare at a picture of him-

C: Damn it, no!

B: Erik's really lost it, has she?

C: When the hell did you get in here?!

B: While ago, came in through the front door. –goes up and steals picture from Erik- Ha!

E: Nooooooooooooooooo! Erik's baby! –starts profusely crying as Erik try to recover it-

C: You two are both idiots! God! –sighs-

E: Brennan, you ass, give me back my baby! –tackles- -wrestles for a bit, then picture rips-

B: Oops… Ah well, sucks for you Erik.

E: _Why does this always happen to me!??! God, why do you hate me!!!!_ –runs out of room, crying-

C: …Everyone this is Brennan.

B: Hi! –smiles-

C: I'm sure you might remember us talking about her in earlier author's notes. Well, Erik fucked something up at school so he owes her.

B: Yep, that's whatcha get…

C: So seeing as Erik is…incapable of continuing the beginning's authors' notes, well just start up the chapter now.

B: Happy reading everyone!

* * *

Roses of Life

* * *

"It just needs _something_…" Meg muttered as she stood before Christine. The brunette stood on an elevated platform, staring at herself in the three mirrors surrounding her. The white dress she and Meg had bought surrounded her and they had stayed there together as Meg fussed over her appearance. The dress was almost completely made of lace, the only thing of it not being the top and the long dress skirt that rested at her feet. The lace raised slightly above the top and the train, all lace once again, was almost six feet long. It also had very simple, thin straps and a large sash wrapped around her small waist.

"It's just fine Meg, really," Christine tried to reassure her, wanting desperately to get down off the platform. Meg shook her head, pacing behind the bride-to-be as she thought deeply. Sucking in air suddenly, Meg walked away from her friend and returned soon after holding a delicate necklace in her hands.

"Bend down," she instructed to the other woman. Holding her hair back from her neck, Christine did as instructed and closed her eyes as she felt the small charm rest on her collar bone. "_Parfait_!" Meg exclaimed happily as she hugged her friend close to her. "I still can't believe you're getting married," she whispered.

"Thank you for being here with me," she said, hugging her friend back. As they separated, Christine glanced at a dresser on the other side of the room and let out a small sigh. "Can I show you something?" she asked as she walked over to the dresser, careful not to tear the long train on the dress, and opened one of it's drawers. Staring at her, confused, she watched as she took out a letter from the drawer and took out the paper from the envelope.

"What's that?" Meg asked, staring at the folded piece of paper. Again, Christine sighed as she unfolded it.

"I went to the doctor's a while go when I was staying with Sorelli for a bit," she explained as she handed the letter to Meg. "I asked him to write down the results, that I didn't want to hear them just yet." Practically ignoring what her comrade was saying, Meg read the letter.

"I don't understand…" Meg stated after she was done. Christine gave a sad little smile to her as she gazed at nothing.

"I told the doctor that I've been getting sick a lot recently, and that I've been having mood swings too. He told me that everything would be all right and had me sit in a room. Then he did some tests, I suppose, on my stomach, then wrote something down on a piece of paper and handed it to me. Last thing he said was that everything was going to be all right." Meg stared at her friend as she let her gaze drift down, still smiling softly. Glancing down back at the opened letter, she saw the word 'pregnant' and two boxes, yes and no, placed by it. The box for 'yes' was checked off.

"Oh, my God."

"He said I was almost a month along now, or that was his guess at least," she said as Meg stared at the words. A silence passed as Christine let her hand rest over her stomach, still completely flat save a small bump. "Maybe I shouldn't be wearing white…" she said softly.

Meg couldn't keep back her frown of disapproval. "Don't say that, Christine. It's okay for this to happen. It hasn't been the first time someone had this happen to them," Meg said reassuringly as she embraced her friend. Christine smiled slightly as she wrapped her arms around her as well.

"You're right…" she whispered, feeling tears begin to form in her brown eyes. "Should we get going now?"

"Yes, we should," Meg agreed as she grabbed the veil and walked with her friend through the back of the house. "It's your special day, Christine; you should be more excited!"

"I am excited," Christine replied, her voice in lack of what she claimed. "I guess I'm just a little nervous too."

"You'll be just fine," Meg said as they walked outside into the bright day. Christine lifted the skirts of her dress, trying to avoid getting it dirty as they walked towards the back of the garden. "I know you will. Now, just wait here for you cue, alright?" she said as they approached the stone building. Fixing the veil onto her friend, she lifted down the shorter end of the thin fabric to cover her face as the pearl flowers glistened off the headband. Finally waving to her friend, she disappeared behind the newly built wooden doors as Christine waited outside.

* * *

Pacing. That was what Erik had been doing all morning as he stayed with Sorelli, staying true to the tradition of not seeing the bride before the wedding, no matter how difficult it was for him. Now it was before the dried fountain that he did his pacing as Sorelli sat on a bench in the room. Occasionally, he would glance over to Sorelli as his hand kept brushing up against the mask he hid in his jacket, making sure that it was still there. The man was slowly turning into a nervous wreck. "What if what I'm doing is a mistake?" he asked Madame Giry for about the hundredth time today. "I only want the best for her, Sorelli. What if this isn't it?" he muttered, worry clearly etched onto his face.

"Erik, Christine is smart. She feels that this is the best, so it is. Trust her, she loves you," Sorelli advised as she watched the man she grew up with continue to wear down the soles of his shoes. "Now, you should calm down, she'll be here soon."

"God I hope you're right. It's been over a month since that incident Sorelli," he said, referring to the murder he had committed. "I just don't know…"

"Of course I'm right," she said, rolling her eyes. Standing, she traveled to the fountain and picked up the worn Bible resting on the edge. Earlier in the week, Erik had gone with Christine to get their license and get 'officially' married to one another. Today was more for the enjoyment of a real wedding for the couple.

"Pardon me for worrying," he muttered as he began to sit on the bench, then standing back up and walking over to the fountain.

"It's very natural to be worried," she said, smiling. "But she probably is too. Just think about your life together from now on." Nodding as he tried to calm himself down, he froze as Meg walked inside the room and up to the piano placed near the side of the room. _His_ piano. His gaze turned to a glare as she situated herself in front of it. Damn it, that was his piano, his _baby_! It bothered him to no end that she was touching it, but he quickly got a hold of himself as Sorelli turned and left the room before soon coming back inside and taking the Bible she had set down before she left.

Erik quickly stood before Sorelli and watched as she stood before _la Sainte Vierge_ and opened the frayed pages. As music began to play and fill the small room, Erik turned and watched as Christine walked into the room. It was what he saw that nearly caused him to break down crying. Walking towards him in time with the music, she appeared like an angel sent down from heaven just for him. Never before had he felt such happiness and realized such loneliness he felt before her. When she arrived next to him, the wedding march had changed to the soft lullaby Erik sung to her every night without the words from it. "Beautiful," he whispered.

Arriving beside her husband, Christine smiled at him as she felt her eyes brimming with unshed tears. Mouthing 'I love you' to him, they both kneeled as Sorelli began to recite the vows. Hardly paying any attention to what to older woman was saying, he smiled softly as he continued to gaze at Christine from the corner of his eyes. "…to have and to hold. Through sickness and health. Till death do you part?"

"I do." Christine listened, captured in wonder, as Sorelli repeated the vows.

"I do," she answered. Standing together, they turned to face each other. Still looking down at the bouquet of lilies that she held, she glanced up as Erik gently took her left hand and placed the ring onto her third finger. Unable to hold it back any longer, water slipped effortlessly down her face as she did the same for Erik. Lifting her head up, she saw Erik watching her with a loving gaze.

Never thinking that such happiness could ever belong to him, he barely heard Sorelli say the ending lines. "I now pronounce you husband and wife," she said, her voice echoing as she closed the book. Reaching forward and lifting up the veil away from her face, he held her face in his hands and pressed his lips against hers. Wrapping her arms around him, Christine pressed her body against his as she responded from the kiss.

Breaking apart finally, the couple couldn't hide their bright smiles as they led the small group out of the building and into a small area where the small party was to be held for the wedding. Pulling out a chair, Christine sat down and smiled as he kissed her once again before seating Sorelli and Meg as well. Instantly, Christine wished that she could tell him the news right then and there. As Erik sat in the chair beside her, she knew what his reaction would be.

As the champagne glasses were filled with wine, Sorelli stood and raised the glass. "To Erik and Christine. I wish you both nothing but happiness."

"Cheers!" Meg added as she, too, raised her glass then drank the entire contents. Standing up along with her mother, she left the table and walked into the house, entering through the kitchen door as her mother sat back down.

"Thank you, Sorelli," Erik said as he and Christine both lowered their glasses from the air and drank to celebrate. Stealing a glimpse at Christine's face, he held her hand in his and ran his thumb over the top of her hand. "Something bothering you?" he whispered, worry very clear in his deep voice.

"No," she promised, "everything's _perfect_."

"You deserve nothing but perfection," he told her, his voice barely above a whisper as he kissed her gently. Sitting up quietly once again, Sorelli left the area and into the kitchen.

"With you, I have it." This was the last thing Sorelli heard before closing the door behind her and seeing her daughter, back turned to her, pick up the wedding cake. When she turned around, she jumped slightly, nearly dropping the treat.

"Oh, Mama!" she exclaimed, recovering from the blunder. "You scared me…" she said quietly as she readjusted her hold on the tray. "Where are Christine and Monsieur Erik?"

"Back outside," she answered. "I came to make sure you don't drop the cake." Meg laughed lightly as she grinned at her mother.

"I would never do that!" she exclaimed as she walked past her mother, still holding the cake. Suddenly, she doubled over and Sorelli reacted immediately, reaching out and catching her daughter and the cake. Setting it down, she walked her daughter over to a chair as she was clearly in some kind of drastic pain. Before her daughter made a single sound, it seemed that the pain went away. "My stomach…?" she muttered, pressing lightly against it with her fingers.

"What's wrong!?" Sorelli demanded, fearful for her daughter. Looking up to her, Sorelli saw nothing but confusion.

"I don't know. It felt…like something kicked me, but really hard," she tried to explain. Suddenly, something deep inside of her felt like vomiting as she smelled the food surrounding her. "I think I'm going to be sick…" she muttered, bending over as she covered her mouth.

"What do you need, what will make you feel better?" Sorelli asked, trying to make her daughter feel better. Not knowing fully what was going on, she worried deeply for her.

"Fish," she stated. Giving her a quizzical look, Meg glanced up. "Do we have any? I want some really bad Mama."

"No, we don't have fish! This is a wedding." Sorelli gave her daughter a concerned look as she helped her daughter stand. "That's it, we're taking you to a doctor after this is over," she stated as she took the cake from the table and headed outside, Meg following closely behind.

"But Mama!" Meg called out as Sorelli placed the cake down in front of Erik and Christine before turning to face her daughter.

"Don't argue with me," Sorelli said. Her daughter glared at her before sitting down in the chair beside her and bursting into unexplained tears.

"It's not my fault!" she shrieked, acting like a small child as she cried. Standing up, Christine moved over to her friend and hugged her closely, smoothing over her hair as she tried to calm her down.

"What's wrong? What's not your fault?" Not answering, Meg's sobbing stopped as suddenly as it came.

"It's nothing, I suppose," she answered as she stood up, shrugging away from her friend. "I should go home now, Christine. I feel absolutely exhausted. Go on with the party without me," she said as she gave Christine a quick hug. Like a breath of air, Meg turned and left the peaceful garden. Silence passed like a heavy rain in the group until Sorelli glanced and gave a strained smile to them.

"I should go and make sure that she's alright," she said, excusing herself before she, like her daughter, left the plot. Staring at each other, Erik cleared his throat as he began to cut the cake.

"You look beautiful Christine," he said, trying to break the awkward silence caused by the blonde as he handed Christine a slice.

"So do you," she said softly as she tried a small piece. "I've never seen you so happy. Thank you for leaving your mask off."

"Anything for you…" he replied simply. As they enjoyed the food together, Erik ran over the series of events that happened with Meg and slowly he grew confused. Christine let out a small laugh at his expression and rested her hand over his larger ones.

"Don't worry about Meg; I think I know what's wrong with her…" Smiling in reply, Erik kissed her cheek as they went back to eating. "It might be Raoul's, you know," Christine stated quietly, wanting to know how Erik would react.

"Why would you think that?" Erik asked, bemused as he thought of a hidden meaning behind Christine's words. Smirking slightly, Christine shrugged her shoulders as she continued to slowly pick at her food. Eventually giving up trying to eat as it was completely unappetizing to her, she took a forkful and held it out to Erik. Capturing the small bit of cake, Christine retracted the fork and watched him as he thought something over. Leaning over to her, Erik kissed her neck as he placed his hand on her thigh. "It doesn't taste nearly as good as you do," he whispered.

"Would you like to go inside?" she asked, laughing a little. Taking her hand in his other one, the busy hand then moved to rest at her waist and together they walked back into the house. Closing the door, Erik started kissing her again.

"I've had to hold back all day Christine. And now, I have you all to myself…" he whispered huskily into her ear as he backed her up against the nearby wall. Lifting up the heavy skirts of her wedding dress, his hands explored her legs. Christine smiled brightly as she took his hands and removed them from her body, then took hold of his face and forced him to look at her.

"Not yet, Erik. Don't you want your present?" she asked him playfully. Erik smiled at her.

"Isn't this it?" he replied, teasing.

"Oh no, it's not this," she said. Leaning in close to him she whispered into his ear, "I'm pregnant." The smile on Erik's face slowly began to fade and his face grew paler than it already was. Christine smiled at his reaction, unable to help herself as she watched him grab a chair and slowly sit down. Sitting in complete silence for a few moments, Erik finally tilted his head so he looked up at her, into her brown eyes.

"Pregnant?" he asked. "As in…a baby?" It was clear that he was shocked with the news. Nodding her head, Christine comfortably sat down on his lap and rested her head against his chest as he continued thinking. His gaze shifted from her face, to her stomach, then back to her smiling features. "I'm going to be a…a _father_?"

"Yes," she answered, smiling. Taking his broad hands, she placed it gently on her abdomen. "We're going to be parents." Inside, she was laughing at how uncomfortable he was feeling. Though it was slightly strange that before this he was singing to her flat stomach, it was still cute. Slowly, ever so slowly, a beam of joy spread across his face.

"A father…me…?"

"Yes," she whispered in reply. "You're going to be a wonderful father, Erik," she told him. Gaze becoming distant as he continued to stare at her stomach, he bent forward so his head was beside her stomach.

"Our own little family," he whispered softly. Again, Christine felt like tearing up as another silence passed, the both of them absorbing the moment. "What should I be expecting from you then?" he asked her, his mind suddenly flashing to how Meg acted earlier, though he knew not why.

"Oh, I doubt I'll get really crazy," she answered, laughing.

"Crazy?"

"Not by much," she promised. Smiling still, Erik gently lifted her up from his lap then placed her back on the chair. Watching him closely, she smiled slightly as he removed his coat then unbuttoned the first few buttons from his shirt. A strange warmth flooded through her, but one that wasn't unfamiliar.

"Are you hungry at all? I can make you something to eat…?" he offered as he put up the jacket and turned to face her. Much to his shock, she was right behind him. Backing into the wall, he grasped his chest as he tried to calm his beating heart. Christine smiled as she moved close to him, playing with the buttons.

"I don't want food," she muttered, turning her eyes up to look at him but her head still tilted downward. Erik, slightly confused, tried backing her away somewhat but only ended up with her being closer to him.

"What do you want then, love? I can make whatever you want," he tried.

"Are you being deliberately ignorant?" she asked, a hint of irritation noted in her voice. "I want _you_." Erik stared at her, shocked at her demand. His mind spun around in a frenzy as his lioness stalked its prey.

"I-I can't…" he said, taking her hands and moving them away from his chest. In turn, Christine rubbed her body enticingly up against his as her breasts pressed against him. "T-The…the baby…!"

"Will be just fine," she told him. "Please Erik. I want you…" Eyes pleading to him, Erik gently placed his hands on her hips. However, just as soon as they were placed there they were jerked away as Erik tried to resist the temptation.

"The baby…" he muttered again as he pushed past her and sat down onto a chair. "I don't want to hurt the baby." Frowning, Christine walked up to him and leaned it close. Leaning back, Erik stared at her as she gazed longingly at him.

"Erik, it won't hurt the baby." Moving closer, she reached out and slightly trailed a fingers across the marred side of his face, studying him. "I promise. I'll be able to tell." By now, her face was next to him and still moving as he continued to lean back, trying with every ounce of being to stand firm to his decision. "But it will hurt _me_ if you _don't_."

"_How_?!" he exclaimed. Unable to move further away from her, Christine pressed her soft, welcoming lips against him. Then they moved to his cheek, his neck, and now his chest as she slowly removed his shirt.

"I'll be upset, Erik," she whispered to his torso as she slipped the cloth away from his body. Finally realizing what was happening to his poor body, with the reaction he was gaining, he tried to back away but ended up falling over and landing onto the floor. Toppling over with him, Christine didn't skip a beat as she smiled up at him. She had landed right on top of him, her curls were disheveled and spilled everywhere as she stared at him lustfully. The straps on her dress had also fallen off, causing the neckline to loosen and slip down so her cleavage showed. Erik was unable to stop the pooling of desire between his legs.

"You'll live, Christine," he mumbled, trying to look away.

"I'll feel unloved," she murmured. "You don't want that, do you?" Hell yes he did if she was going to look like that the whole time.

"You're not unwanted, nor will you ever be. But, I stand by my decision," he said firmly. Eyes growing heavy, Christine rested her head on his chest and, before Erik even realized what exactly had happened, fell asleep.

Careful not to wake her up, he carried her to the bedroom and undressed her from the oversized wedding dress. After laying her down onto the soft mattress and making sure that she was still asleep, he then left the room and started a bath. As he undressed himself and entered the warm water, he was slightly spooked. If that was Christine's definition of 'not too crazy', then he was terrified of what she would be like when she _would_ be crazy.

* * *

Raoul lounged comfortably in his chair as his champagne glass was refilled. Patiently he waited for his guest to arrive, yet his patience was beginning to wear thin as the hour passed. Sipping at the wine in his glass, he eyed the maid who stood silently in the corner of the room, waiting for orders to be received. There were two in the room. One standing beside him, holding a wine bottle, and the other off to the corner. Both of their heads were lowered in respect. "File," he ordered. Without missing a sound, the two maids stood side-by-side in front of the man. Hungrily staring at them, he evaluated each young woman until he made his decision. "Antoinette," he said. The servant who had been standing in the corner stepped forward as the other one bowed then left the room, leaving the wine bottle behind.

"Yes, monsieur?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly as she wrung her starched apron in her small hands, still looking down. Raoul smirked as he continued to sip at the wine.

"Would you like any?" he asked her politely, holding out his glass.

"No thank you, monsieur. I'm fine…" she muttered.

"Nonsense, have some," he said, forcing the glass into her trembling hands. Not wishing to get punished for disobeying him, she reluctantly lifted the glass to her pale lips and drank. "Good girl…" he muttered, eying the low neck line from her uniform. Returning the glass, Antoinette blushed brightly as she went back to staring at her feet.

"Anything else, monsieur?" she asked. She was terrified with what was going on. It was her first day and she was warned that the Victome had a tendency of starting affairs with maids. And usually, he had favorites. Not thinking he would take any interest in her, and the fact that she was practically forced to become a servant because of a debt from her father, she began working.

"Are you uncomfortable, Antoinette?" he asked kindly. It was clear that he had alternative plans with her.

"N-No, monsieur."

"You look it. Maybe taking off the apron would make you feel better?" he offered, although his voice made it sound like an order. Not wanting to upset him, she did just that and removed her puffed bonnet as well to try to please him. He smiled warmly at her.

"Good. Now, will you please refill my glass?" he asked, holding out his wine glass. Feeling relief that she could start moving, she readily carried out the order. As she bent over to the glass, he obviously ravished her with his eyes as her cleavage angled close to his face. "You really are a very obedient girl…" he noted.

"Thank you, monsieur."

"Please, call me Raoul," he replied, smiling as he raised his glass in what seemed like a toast. Blushing slightly, Antoinette let a small smile escape as she stood. Before any more words were exchanged, the door into the study where they both stood opened and a short blonde walked into the room.

"You called?" the woman said, glaring at him. Antoinette stared at her, feeling like she had been caught red-handed doing something scandalous.

"Ah, Meg, darling," he said, standing up to greet her. It figured, she was probably his fiancée. Raoul glanced back to her and, with a simple hand movement, dismissed her. As she left, she held her back momentarily. "I'll come and see you later," he promised. Looking away to hide her blush, she left the room and closed the doors behind her.

"Don't 'darling' me, Raoul!" Meg said dangerously after the doors were closed. Shrugging his shoulders, Raoul traveled back to his chair and picked up his wine glass once again.

"Drink?" he offered. Pushing the glass away, she stood before him. "Suit yourself," he muttered, downing the glass.

"Why did you call me?" she demanded. Refilling his glass, Raoul continued to smile at her.

"No reason, just to talk," he answered, standing up as he walked close to her. "Maybe catch up on old times…?" Meg gave him a look of disgust as she backed away.

"I shouldn't even be here. Mama told me to stay away from you and I should have listened to her," she spat.

"Well, it's no use to second guess yourself since you're here now," he commented, his gaze wandering away from her face. Reaching forward, he held a small tress of hair in his fingers. "I missed you, Meg. I was so worried about you," he whispered, letting the hair slip through his fingers and fall down back onto her shoulder. Furrowing her brow, she raised her hand and slapped him hard. Taken aback by the sudden gesture, Raoul gasped as he held his face. "M-Meg…?!"

"Like hell you were worried about me! You spend your whole time taking advantage of poor women then fuck them!" she shouted. Raoul couldn't hold back his smile.

"Like you?" he offered. Tears forming in her eyes, she slapped him again as she violently pushed back stray hair from her face.

"Burn in hell Raoul! I came here to tell you that I don't want to see you any more, but it seems your already found a new playmate! So you won't be seeing me anymore!" she screamed before running out of the room. Exiting the house, she ran through the streets until she finally arrived, exhausted, at the Opera House and collapsed onto the stairs leading to the upper stories. "I hate him!" she shrieked into the empty hallway. When Sorelli entered the hallway, after hearing her shriek of rage, Meg was crying.

* * *

Antoinette entered her room after a long day of working. She was slightly disappointed that she was unable to see Raoul anymore for the day, but she pushed the thought to the back of her head as she undid her hair so the blonde, nearly white, strands fell down around her shoulders. Turning to her waiting bed, she saw a rose placed on the covers and smiled slightly as she gently picked it up.

Sitting down onto her bed, she was surprised at the sudden knock on her door. "Antoinette?" a familiar voice called out.

"Raoul…" she breathed as said man entered the small room. Smiling, he noticed the rose she was holding.

"You got my present for you then?" he asked as he walked up to her.

"Y-Yes, monsieur," she muttered quietly. "Oh!" she gasped, standing up and holding out the chair tucked under her writing desk for him. "I'm sorry…"

"Please, call me Raoul," he said, taking her hand and kissing the top of it, "Antoinette." Raising his head, he brushed back her hair and tucked it behind her hair. Her knees getting weak, she had to sit down on her bed as her cheeks burned.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I don't know what came over me…"

"It's okay, it's getting late anyways. I should retire now." Walking up to her, he leaned forward and kissed her softly, his lips lingering on hers as he pulled away. "Good night Antoinette."

* * *

E: Haha, Raoul's a man-whore…

C: Not really, though. More as…well, yes that describes him pretty well…

B: Amen…

E: Erik saw it Erik saw it! God it was…there are simply no words whatsoever to describe this wonderful movie.

B: You _suck_!

E: -smiles- Heard it all before!

C: They're talking about Alice in Wonderland, to anyone who is remotely interested.

E: _Parfait_ means 'perfect'. Anyone ever seen Shrek? Remember the scene where they're in the giant field and he was explaining to Donkey how ogres were like onions? And then Donkey asked him if he was a cake then said that parfaits had to be the most perfect desert in the world?

B: …

C: …Dear, I don't think anyone remembers…

E: Alas, what can you do. Anyways, who liked the chapter! –smiles- Every single person reading this had better have their hands raised or Erik is stalk you…

C: Don't threaten them!

B: Threaten them!

E: You are confusing Erik! Stop! –takes deep breath- Okay…Okay, Erik is okay now. Ahem…

B: What is it now?

C: He has an announcement.

B: How do you know?!

C: I've known Erik for three years now.

B: And I've known Erik for four!

E: Now, ladies. I known I'm handsome and wonderful and stunning and handsome and godly and handsome, but you both must share me with my public.

C&B: Shut up.

E: …My, my. Okay, as usual, Erik would like to do an overview on the story. The wedding blah blah, Meg freaking out blah blah, ah! Anyone enjoy the whole thing with Christine nearly raping her own husband? Made me laugh my head off when she fell asleep!

C: That didn't happen in the role-

E: Sssh, my darling. Daddy's not finished.

C: What!

B: -is over in chair laughing-

E: Okay, Meg confronting Raoul blah blah. Oh! Just a note, Antoinette isn't important by much.

C: She's kinda more like a side story going on about Mr. Casanova.

E: Oh, you'll love it. Each chapter you'll learn more and more about her and it really is just to show how much of a jackass Raoul is and how little he actually doesn't cares for anyone else but himself.

C: Is that it?

E: Yes my love, now, without further notice, I implore you all to review and I will see-

B: You all next chapter!

E: You _whore_! Stealing my fucking lines!? They're mine!

C: -sighs- Goodbye everyone.


	13. A Story

E: Erik got a doll! Erik got a doll! Her name is Elaina and she looks just like Christine with her brown ringlets and rosy cheeks and…and…-squee-

C: That's not creepy at all Erik…

B: I thought you were a dude? Erik doesn't like dolls! He likes murdering and Christine.

E: -sniffle- Well this Erik likes dolls! Especially porcelain ones wearing Victorian/Edwardian Era clothing!

B: …You are so weird…

E: I know you are, but what am I?

B: A freak!

E: I know you are, but what am I?

B: Ugh! Stop that!

C: Both of you stop it!

E: …he also got another one besides Elaina. Her name is Oliviana and she has red curly hair and big blue eyes and I love her so very much.

C: Okay now, can we please move on?

E: _Never_!

B: Everyone who is reading, enjoy chapter 13.

* * *

Roses of Life

* * *

As the wind billowed, causing the skirt on her baby blue dress to flutter past her legs, Antoinette tried to keep it down. The sun shone down brightly, yet the air was still cold. The sky even had a feel of still being dormant as winter was making its slow escape. Naturally, with being use to waking up at ungodly hours to a freezing house, Antoinette found the weather comforting and familiar. It had nearly been two hours that she had waited outside, but she prayed that it would be worth it and that she wouldn't get caught by Maurice, the head butler at the estate who had a tendency of giving the harshest lectures that some women had cried when receiving it. "Raoul!" she called out as her lover appeared from among the trees surrounding her.

"I'm sorry for being so late," he said as they embraced. Receiving his gentle kiss, the woman smiled.

"It's no trouble, I like it out here," she replied. Raoul's eyes scanned over her and she blushed, feeling practically naked without her uniform on around him. The day was special, as all the servant had been graciously given a day off. Taking advantage of the opportunity, Raoul invited her to meet him, secretly of course, out in the small woods beside his estate. Dressing in her best dress, which all the other maids had helped her save up for to buy, she left early so as not to get caught and waited.

"You look beautiful," he commented, brushing back the hair that stuck to her face from the wind. She couldn't hold back her smile of delight. When she bought the dress, she had been hoping he would like it, hoping to please him in whatever way she could manage.

"Thank you," she whispered. "You do too."

"Where did you get the money for this?"

"The other maids helped me save up," Antoinette explained. "They wanted me to look nice for you." Raoul frowned slightly as he placed his hands on her waist.

"Antoinette, you know we can't let other people know," he said sternly. "Our love is forbidden." She knew that, and it was that fact that made her heart race. Secret meetings, stolen kisses in the dead of night, hidden flirting; it made the whole thing more exciting and more real.

"I'm sorry, Raoul," she said, pretending to be upset. Able to see right through it, Raoul took her head in his hands and forced her to look at him.

"Listen to me, I'm completely serious here. If anyone finds out, they will take you away and _kill_ you. Do you understand, Antoinette?" Yes, actually, she did. At least every single maid that worked in that house had an affair with their explorer at the very least once. Only two had been caught recently and were never heard from again except in the papers that the head maid read out to the uneducated ones, such as herself.

"Yes, Raoul. I'm sorry," she murmured. Sighing, he gave her a small smile as he lifted her head up and kissed her. "I love you, Raoul," she whispered. He smiled in reply as he backed away from her.

"I have to leave now. I've business to attend to. But I'll come and see you as soon as I possibly can." Filled with a sudden loneliness, she walked with him solemnly as they left the forest and entered the far end of the small garden surrounding the house. Giving her a small peck on the cheek, he then left her to herself. Now alone, she wandered around the garden until she found Marguerite sitting by herself on the porch.

"Antoinette, is that you?" Marguerite asked as she sat up and walked up to her. Smiling, she nodded. Marguerite was a maid, just like her, who had become her only close friend in the household. Though their shared positions weren't too high, they were still above the scullery maids, which was what originally brought them together. "How did things go?" she asked excitedly, walking with Antoinette back onto the porch. Marguerite was also one of the first people Antoinette told about her and Raoul.

"Great, I suppose. He had to leave for some business," she explained as she walked up to her and sat down beside her in the swinging chair. "I told him I loved him…"

"Did he say anything back?"

"No…" she said with a heavy sigh. Marguerite frowned slightly as Antoinette stared off into the horizon.

"You know I hate to tell you this," she muttered, "but it's for your own good. He's had too many affairs to count and most of them have been with the maids that work here. And _every single one of them_ has left. I was friends with one of them and the exact same thing that is going on with you happened to her as well. It's not going to end well." Antoinette turned to her, glaring but also clearly hurt, as she furiously wiped away her tears which had rapidly formed.

"Maybe it's different with me? Maybe he actually does care for me!" she exclaimed.

"She thought the exact same thing and Monsieur Chagney had had several affairs before her. His parents found out and she was taken away by the police several days later because Raoul claimed what he always did…"

"And is _that_, pray tell?!" she snapped at her friend as her blonde hair fell in front of her face. Unable to hide her fury, she stood and kicked at one of the support poles beside the stairs leading off the patio. Marguerite simply watched her until she collapsed into a sobbing heap, leaning heavily against the pole. It was obvious that Antoinette already knew all of this, but was trying hard not to believe any of it, allowing herself to wishfully think that Raoul really did love her.

"That the maids came onto him after being denied by one of the butler's. He gets away with the excuse every single time because not only does he keep the affairs going for awhile, some of the butler's are known, as you know, for flirting with the maids. Well, actually," she said, gazing at the sky thoughtfully, "now that I think of it, he gets rid of them either that way or another…" Antoinette, attention clearly caught, turned to face Marguerite. Her pretty face was red and wet trails leaked from the corners of her green eyes.

"What other way?"

"…The women get pregnant and they have to leave or face disgrace. And everyone knows that that is far worse than being locked away, although the end result is always the same…" Antoinette stared at her, shocked, as she quietly pondered. Suddenly, she was terrified. What if that happened to her? What if she ended up like Marguerite's friend? Her face paled as more thoughts passed her mind.

"I…I'm scared Marguerite. I…I-I don't want to go to jail. I don't want to get p-pregnant," she stated, falling to her knees as she could no longer support her own weight. Marguerite rushed up to her and helped her stand up again, though she shook badly.

"Don't worry. You'll be fine. I'm sure that, when the time comes, if you keep quiet and don't throw yourself at him when he tries to leave, nothing will happen to you," she whispered, trying to calm her down as Antoinette began trembling.

"W-What have I gotten m-myself i-i-into!" she sobbed.

"Shh…It's going to be alright, Antoinette. I'll make sure of it, okay?" she replied as she turned her friend around and led her into the house. Soon, they made their way to the servants' quarters and, taking their time, Marguerite managed to get Antoinette into her own room in her own bed. "Now just rest. You're probably exhausted. If anything comes up I'll cover you," she whispered as she smoothed her head back. Nodding, Antoinette grabbed the thin covers and pulled them up to her shoulders. Without bothering to take her own clothes off she fell asleep.

* * *

Awaking to a rhythmic beating, brown eyes opened up to see a bare chest beside the face to which the eyes belonged to. Blinking, Christine looked up to see Erik fast asleep underneath her. His breathing was steady and even, showing that he really was deep under. Gently, so as not to wake him, she removed the large blanket and rolled off the bed. Once again, she was standing in all of God's given glory. She noticed that she had been doing more and more of it recently. Trying her best to make as little noise as possible, she made her way to her dresser and opened the wood doors.

Peering into the indention, she saw that there were no clothes inside the wardrobe except one. It was a see-through wrap that stopped at her thighs. Gazing at the garment, she picked it up, wondering what happened to the many dresses she had. Glancing back at the other sleeping form in the room, she smirked as she turned back to the veil-like material she held in her hands. Desperate to find anything else, she also searched the drawers underneath the vanity Erik placed in the room for her. This time, she only found something that _must_ have belonged with the dress she held. If put together correctly, the dress would end just above her knees and only slightly conceal her bare chest.

"Erik…" she muttered as, deciding that it would be better than wearing nothing; she dressed into the skimpy outfit. Still staying as quiet as possible, she snuck out of the room as Erik still slept. Finding that, naturally, the house was empty, she felt slightly lonely. She missed the hustle and bustle that constantly surrounded her at the dormitories. Even when everyone was asleep, she was still surrounded by other people. Stepping into the nursery room, she placed her hand upon her somewhat flat stomach and thought about how it wouldn't be much longer until she would have her hands full.

"And what do you think you're doing? Leaving the bed without me?" a deep voice asked from behind her. The sudden noise shocked her as she jumped slightly. Erik stood behind her, leaning against the doorframe as he smiled. "Who'd you think I was?" he teased her. "The ghost of Raoul coming to haunt you?" Christine laughed as he approached her, wrapping his arms around her much smaller waist.

"Hardly," she said. Erik brushed back the hair away from her neck and gently kissed the nape on her neck. Tilting her head to the side, she continued to stare at the small room. Closing her eyes, she could feel Erik's hands slip through the opening in her dress, if you could call it, and press his cold hands against her warm stomach.

"My beautiful wife," he whispered, "and my lovely daughter. How I love you two so much." Little by little, his hands made their way up the curves of her body. His other hand, which was originally rested on her waist, now moved so it slid between her legs. "And you're both looking so darling. I see that you found my little outfit for you?" he asked, moving back slightly to look at her. His eyes scanned her body, filling themselves with lust as they studied every curve and bump. Christine could feel her body heat up at his gaze, causing the all too familiar warmth to spread throughout her entire body.

"Yes, I did," she whispered, closing her eyes. The result caused her senses to heighten and the feel of his hands made her shiver slightly. Hearing a small chuckle, she suddenly felt his hands retract from her. "Hm?" Opening her eyes, she saw Erik still standing before her, smiling softly. The look on his face, though, made it obvious that he was conflicted. "Erik…"

"Yes, Christine?" he replied, unable to remove his eyes from her body. Reaching out a hand, she rested her palm against his face, gazing at him with love in her eyes. The gesture, as she had hoped it would. It was difficult for him, especially since the night before.

"It's okay, love," she whispered. "I understand."

"You're not going to jump me again like yesterday?" he questioned. Laughing softly, she shook her head and moved close to him. Resting her head on his bare chest, she closed her eyes as she listened to the steady beating emitting from his heart.

"Of course not. I just got a little…out of hand yesterday," she replied. Although, in truth, it wasn't going to stop her at all. As she stared at him, smiling softly, the gears in her head turned as she thought of a grand plan to corner Erik in the end. By the end of the week, she was going to get what she wanted whether he liked it or not. Smiling brightly at him, she took his hand and walked close to him, leaving no space left in between them. "Tell me a story instead?" she offered.

Nodding in agreement, he led her through the house until they made it, once again, back to their welcoming bedroom and lay down beside her. "What do you want to hear about, Christine?"

"How about the story you used in your opera?" she asked, closing her eyes as she got comfortable. Resting his hand on the curve of her side, he closed his eyes as well and began to recreate the story in his head.

"Once upon a time, deep in the streets of Paris, a young girl lived with her loving parents. The small family was very close to each other and had great love for one another as well. However, one day, the mother and father were killed in an accident after the girl left the home. The young orphan was then passed along from family member to family member, but no one would take her in," he said, his mind going through all the different scenes. "Finally, after months of being passed around, a strange relative took her under his wing. But despite his hospitality, he hated the beautiful girl who had now turned into a beautiful woman, though no one knew why. Day by day, she was kept locked up in her room, her only entertainment was to gaze outside at the garden.

"One day, she saw the gardener tending to the garden and instantly fell in love with him. Every day they would meet by her window and talk until they were forced to leave. One faithful morning, she admitted her undying love for him. Slightly shocked at the suddenness of it, he too admitted the same; saying that it was love at first sight with him as well. In that very moment, they promised each other that they would run away together and get married.

"The whole day the young woman waited till night had come and gone, but still her lover had not arrived. With the dawn's light approaching on the horizon, she escaped from her confines and into the garden. Spending the rest of the day looking through the large maze, she finally arrived at the small house where her love lived alone." Christine frowned, clearly upset so far with the story. Opening her eyes, she turned up to look at him.

"Where was he? Why didn't he show up?'

"Her foster father had found out about the plan through her handmaid and had come earlier and killed the man before he could escape to her."

"No!" she gasped, her hand tightening into a fist as her eyes widened. "How horrible! What did the woman do?"

"Shush _chérie_, I'll tell you in a minute," he whispered, smiling. "When she entered the house, she saw the other man waiting for her. Very calmly he told her that because she had gone and done such a horrible thing to him, he was to do the same. Then, after he was finished, he shot her right through her broken heart. It turned out that he, too, had loved her," he said, stroking her hair gently to try to calm her down.

"What?!" she replied in horror. "That's terrible! Please don't tell me that's the end!"

"Of course it's not the end, love," he teased. Patiently she waited for him to continue. But when he did, she said, "Well? Is that it?"

"It has a happy ending, love, don't fret," he whispered quietly, his eyes playful. A few more minutes of silence passed until he spoke again. "The next thing she realized she woke up and was lying outside. Not knowing entirely what had happened to her, she fancied it all a dream and that she had fallen asleep while looking for her lost lover. Standing up, she retraced her steps all the way back to the young man's house. As she entered the abode, she saw her foster father holding her lifeless, bloody corpse and stuffing it into a bag along with the man he had earlier killed. As she watched him drag the heavy bag towards the door, she ran outside. Not stopping, she kept going until she felt tears falling down her face and familiar arms enveloping her. Standing completely still, she heard a voice come from behind her. Softly, it said, 'forever shall we now together, my love, now that the madness has ended. Do not fear, for I shall always remain by your side for now and eternity.' And when she turned around she saw her love standing behind her. Bending down to her, he gently kissed her." Erik did the same. "And then both of their entire beings lit up with what must have been a heavenly light. Together they embraced then died in each other arms."

"That's so…beautiful," she whispered, tears forming into her eyes. "So sad...but happy too, I suppose. Still, I liked our story much better," she said. Erik nodded and kissed her forehead gently, after which he stood up from the bed.

"You should rest now love. The dress rehearsal for the actual opera will be starting late tonight. You and Nicolette need all the rest that you two can get."

"Nicolette?" Christine raised her eyebrows. "You already named her? What if I don't want to name her that?" she questioned.

"Well, that's just too bad dear. Nicolette's a perfect name for our daughter."

"And so is Jolee," she replied, suddenly thinking of the name herself. "I like that one better." Erik stopped suddenly from his journey out of the room and turned back around to face her.

"Don't you think that that name is a little too…_uncommon_ for her? I'd rather Nicolette more; it's a very pretty name Christine."

"Maybe you've forgotten already, but you are married now. You don't get to make all the decisions; you have to listen and accept another person's opinion now. And I happen to like the name Jolee better. I'm sure there's a way to compromise," she said, getting out of the bed and walking up to him. It was clear on his face that he was starting to become very irritated with her.

"There's no compromise. Her name is to be Nicolette." Getting irritated as well, Christine began to glare at him.

"…Maybe her middle name could be Nicolette?"

"And maybe Jolee could be her middle name!" Christine closed her eyes tightly as she tried to clear her mind, trying to take control of her emotions so they wouldn't completely take over her like they tended to do with the man opposite her.

"But don't you think 'Jolee Nicolette' sounds better than "Nicolette Jolee'?" she offered, her voice soft and gentle. Erik fell silent, staring past her in anger as something began to form in his mind that clearly troubled him.

"…Does it matter with the sounding anyways? It's not like she's going into the world beyond this house anyways…"

"You mean that you'll never let her leave the house?" Christine questioned him. Watching him carefully, she noticed his simple eye movements and twitching of his body, showing how badly he wanted to run away.

"It's just…" he muttered, nervous, "what if something goes wrong? I just think that our daughter should just stay here and not face the cruelties of the world…"

"Erik, what could possibly go wrong?"

"Everything could go wrong!" he exclaimed.

"Like what?" she implied in a retort.

"…The birth…" Now he was just making things difficult.

"What could possibly happen then?"

"Well…her appearance…for one," he whispered. By now he was trembling and his hands tightened and released. Christine's face softened as she reached out to him and held his face in her hands like she always did to show her love for him and to ease his troubles.

"Erik, I really don't think that that's the kind of thing that can be inherited. Did either one of your parents look like you?" She saw his face, a short while ago so soft and loving, now hardened. It was clear that he was thinking of his mother.

"My mother was a monster on the inside. I never knew my father…" he said with bitterness in his voice as he turned away from her and headed back towards the door. "You need to rest, Christine. When Sorelli comes to get you, you need to be completely ready for anything," he said solemnly before he left the bedroom, leaving her alone to herself. Frowning slightly, she went back to the bed and curled under the covers, resting her hands over her abdomen.

"No matter what you look like, we still will love you," she whispered quietly, a promise to the small infant, before falling asleep.

* * *

Contents of her recent breakfast made its way through the many passages of her body until they finally exited through her mouth and into the sink she was bent over. "Please," Meg muttered. "Please be over." Her wish was ignored, though, as more vomit left her body. She was completely alone in the bathroom inside the dancing dormitories. Her hand held onto her stomach as the other held desperately onto the edge of the sink. Finally getting a short break, she glanced up into the mirror as she dug deep into her memory. "It couldn't have been more than a few months ago," she muttered under her breath. Almost as if to prove her guess, she emptied the contents of her stomach once more into the sink. _Damn_, she thought.

Lifting herself away from the sink, she heard the door to the bathroom knock loudly. "Meg?" her mother's voice called out. "Meg, what's wrong?" Wiping the vomit away from her lips, she straightened out her hair. "Nothing Mama…" Sorelli entered the room and Meg saw her reflection in the mirror. The worried look on Sorelli's face made her break down. "I might be…" she sighed, not wanting to admit the truth. "I might be pregnant."

"What!?" she exclaimed, unable to hold back her gasp of shock. "Who's the father?!"

"…Raoul…" Instantly, Sorelli stormed out of the room, murder clear in her mind. She began looking for the man who committed the crime onto her daughter, ready to scream at him or slit his throat. She wasn't sure which yet. Meg ran after her, stopping her by standing in front of her.

"Please don't tell him! You can't tell anyone!" she exclaimed, panting heavily as she began to feel light-headed.

"Why not?" she asked. "He should take responsibility for…for _this_!" she shouted, pointing at Meg's stomach.

"It'll just end up as a scandal Mama. I'd rather raise the baby _without_ Raoul!" she said as she began crying. Exhausted and terrified, Meg was unable to keep her bubbling emotions back as she tried to calm her own mother down as well.

"Because you have _so_ much money, right?" she replied sarcastically.

"He can't raise a child, you know that!"

"Well, why the hell not?!" she snapped at her. Her crying turned more profuse as she covered her face with her hands.

"Mama, please! I don't want to have to marry him, I don't even _love_ him! I was drunk and careless when it happened, I don't want him raising _my_ child! I don't want anything else to _do with him_!" she sobbed pathetically. Sighing, Sorelli reached out and wrapped her arms around her crying daughter.

"Oh, sweetheart," she whispered. "We don't have to tell him if that's what you want. I'll help you raise the baby, you don't have to worry." Meg embraced her mother as well, trembling slightly.

"Oh, Mama, thank you," she whispered. "Thank you so much."

* * *

E: No one is shocked. –laughs-

C: Erik that's mean!

B: Meg's a whore, get over it.

E: I love this. Haha, I love Pokémon too. Been watching episodes nonstop. And not those stupid gay new ones where there's too much crap going on to remember. I'm watching the episodes they made right after the very first series. So there's Misty and Ash and Brock was here but was replaced by Tracy.

C: Wow…only you, Erik.

B: Awesome! Lemme watch!

E: _Never_! –evil laughter-Sorry everyone, Erik hasn't had much happen to him to really talk about in the author's notes. That, and he doesn't like forced humor so he's thinking of something.

C: Amazing. For once you don't have anything to say.

B: Oh my God. Who are you and what have you done to my friend!

E: I don't know I don't know! –starts crying profusely- Oh wait! I have two things!

B: Yay! Erik's back!

C: God you two give me a headache…

E: Anyone here ever heard of ?

C: We both have accounts on there.

E: Yea but you don't go on yours much anymore. –glances at you from corner of eyes-

C: Big deal Erik! It's a website!

E: So who wants to get to know me?! Huh, huh!? My account username is:

x- hinatasakura -x

C: So to anyone who wants to talk to Erik via that-a way, go ahead.

E: Erik will talk to any and all people who want to talk to Erik! He loves all of his fans!

B: Okay now what was the other thing?

E: Huh? Umm…I don't remember…Oh well…

C: Everyone please review for the sake of Erik's sanity.

B: See you all next chapter!


	14. What Nearly Happened

E: Erik has a surprise for all of his wonderful readers!

C: Oh?

E: Yes. Erik has noticed, from reading most of his fans profiles when he grew bored, that a lot of you like Sweeny Todd. Naturally, of course, who doesn't?

B: Keep going…

E: Ahem. Anyways, Erik has decided, after a long conversation with his cousin, Cloey, that he is going to create a Sweeny Todd fanfic!

B: …Oh my God, I love you! –hugs-

E: Yes, I know, who doesn't? But still, Erik is going to write it as well as this phanfiction. Oh bliss, I'm starting to believe I enjoy overworking myself. So now, on top of all of his school work, two personal novels, all of his reading, his other fanfic, _and_ this makes Erik very excited. Although, he hasn't a clue what to name it…

C: Not even an idea?

E: Well, I have an _idea_. Let's see, I was thinking of it while I was taking a shower (like all my good ideas do). I believe it was Love, Razors, and a Meat Pie for Two. But I don't think that that is good enough. Roses of Life took me a week, if I remember, to think of…No, I lied, it took me about ten minutes of arguing with Christine to think of. But that was a sudden burst of inspiration on my part.

B: That sounds like a stupid name!

E: Exactly! So, when you review, tell me what you think of the name; or make up your own for me to use (with your permission of course). If enough people like it, I'll start up the first chapter! For now, I'm off to recite the movie as I watch it. _Avoir_.

C: Happy reading everyone.

* * *

Roses of Life

* * *

When Christine awoke again in the spacious bedroom she found herself alone. It was, of course, what she expected but it still caused her to be filled with a sense of loneliness. Carefully getting out of the bed, the whole entire house was completely silent. The strangeness of it caught her off guard and she immediately left the room to investigate. "Erik?" she called out, but received no response. As she continued to call out to her husband she traveled from room to room. She went to the kitchen, the parlor, the dining room, even the nursery; but still she was unable to find him. "Erik…?"

But still she refused to give up her search. Grabbing a shawl to wrap herself up in for warmth, she went outside into the biting cold wind of the afternoon and began her further search of her lover. The garden was huge, with a million possible places to hide away. It didn't stop her though, and she went to the first place she could imagine him hiding.

Making her way carefully through the lavish garden, she arrived to the room of mirrors and saw that one of the doors was opened slightly. Quietly, she went up to the door and peered inside and saw the man she had been looking for bent over something that he was working on. Opening the door a little more, enough for her to slip in, she went inside and stood behind him. "Hello, Christine," he muttered as he continued his work.

Christine didn't reply, instead choosing to try to see what he was working on. He wouldn't let her see though, so she decided instead to move to a bench and sit by herself. Although she was relieved that she found him, she was still slightly irritated that he was ignoring her. The argument they had earlier couldn't have been bad enough to be ignore…at least, she thought so.

After about an hour of complete and total silence, Erik finally stood and turned to face Christine, his work still hidden from her sight. "I just wanted to say…that I'm sorry. I just lost myself a little earlier. I'm just so worried, Christine, about the baby. I don't want her to have to live the way I did…"

"Erik…" she sighed. "She will never have to. Our daughter will be raised no differently than any other child will be and she will be constantly surrounded by love," she explained as Erik walked over to Christine and sat beside her.

"And I should know that, but I'm just so nervous…about everything," he replied. A silence passed by them and soon Erik rested one of his hands over her own. "I know this probably won't make up for everything, but I hate seeing you upset like this," he whispered. Placing his hidden hand on his lap, Christine could see his hand gripping a large amount of cloth all sewn together. Holding it out to her, she took it gently and unfolded it.

The cloth turned out to be a long, flowing white dress. A simple thing that probably didn't take very long to make. It was the delicate designs that Erik had placed onto the dress, though, that captured her breath. Small red and ivory colored roses were placed along the dress in different ways, creating a picture of absolute beauty. As she stared at the dress, her anger melted away.

"It's beautiful," she muttered. It was know that Christine had realized just how much he had changed since he had first sang to her so very long ago. Turning to gaze at him, she saw that he was smiling slightly.

"You like it?"

"Yes, I love it," she replied. As she studied the designs on the dress, Erik stood and picked her up. "Erik?" she asked, confused as he cradled her and began walking back towards their house. Entering the parlor near the front of the house, Erik placed her down and handed her a book.

"Just read for a bit," he ordered. "I'm going to get ready before we leave for the rehearsal. Just wear that dress and you'll be fine," he said. Kissing her forehead gently, he smiled at her before leaving the room. Christine, smiling playfully to herself, indulged in his request for a short while until her emotions got the better of her.

Placing the book down on the side table, she stood and rested the dress onto the cushion of the seat as she moved deeper into the house. Making sure she stayed as quiet as she possibly could, she checked each of the rooms until she finally found him. Opening the door slowly, she was glad to see that his back was turned to her. The steam from the hot water that gathered from the bath he was resting in blew out of the room, making the room slightly colder.

Hoping that he hadn't noticed her entrance, she walked in quickly and shut the door quietly behind her. Silently walking up behind him, she managed to remove her simple clothes from her body and bend down behind him so her head was close to his. "Hello, love," she whispered. Amazed at how calm he remained, she then realized that he was completely expecting her.

"Why must you keep at it, dear? You know that I won't give in to you."

"Not even when I've been so good?" she teased. Almost as if she could feel Erik smile, Christine thought for a fleeting moment that she would finally get what she wanted. Of course, fate was too cruel for that.

"No, Christine. You can't convince me…" he said, though his will sounded weak. Unable to hold back her own smile, she saw it as her perfect chance.

"Erik, you have to understand," she whispered. "The thing about pregnancy is that it makes you _extremely_ horny. I might end up going crazy," she said as she reached forward and wrapped her arms loosely around his chest. "Please, love…" Climbing into the warm tub, she leaned her body into his as she placed her hand on his broad chest. "Take me."

"No." Okay, this was getting her nowhere; time to start her plan. But first, she had to try one last time.

"_Please_ Erik, I need you…" she begged. As he gently pushed herself away from him, she bit her lower lip to keep her tears from flowing. "I see how it is," she said, her voice wavering. Holding onto the edge of the bathtub, she managed to get out as tears began running down her face. "I'll just go into my room, then." Erik watched her sadly as she walked up to the door, occasionally sniffling and letting out a tiny whimper of despair.

The silence continued on as Christine lingered at the door, clearly wanting to say more. Erik continued to sit in silence until, sighing in defeat; he got out of the bath and wrapped a towel around his waist. Walking up behind Christine, he placed his hand on her shoulder. "Christine…" he breathed as she wiped furiously at her brown eyes. "I'm sorry."

"No, I'm sorry," she muttered, her voice choked with tears. "I don't know what came over me. And now I'm crying! I'm such a mess!" she exclaimed. Carefully guiding her so she turned to face him, he brushed away the tears falling from her dark brown eyes.

"You're _beautiful_," he whispered. "Don't ever think otherwise." Holding her face in his hands, he brought his lips onto hers and wrapped his arms around her small waist. Christine kissed him passionately back, her hands removing the towel that he had annoyingly wrapped around his waist. As he finally pulled away from her he saw her smiling up at him brightly. Smiling back, he then dropped his hands away from her before he went over the edge and got back into the welcoming water.

"Oh, Erik," she sang, following after him. "Where do you think you're going?" she asked as she climbed in beside him and let her hand sink below the water.

"Christine…" he warned. He was stopped though, unable to say more, as Christine pressed a kiss against his lips. Her teeth bit playfully at him, tempting him to indulge in his 'forbidden fruit'. Grabbing her waist, he forced her to pull away. "No, Christine," he said. It didn't last long, naturally, as she managed to slip away from his grasp. Giggling, she moved closer to him and wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing her face close to his. It seemed that he just couldn't win, not this time.

"Just a little, Erik. You know you want to," Christine persuaded as she pressed her bare chest against him. Being a man, Erik was unable to hide his growing pleasure and it pissed him off to know end that she knew as well. Taking his hand, she guided it through the water as she turned around, back against his chest, and pressed it against her breast. "Take me, Erik."

"Damn it Christine," he swore. Looking up at him, she smiled playfully, pretending that she didn't know what he was talking about. Leaning back into him comfortably, she allowed his hand to remain where it was as she relaxed and played with the water, sloshing it back and forth and making small whirlpools. Erik gave a small sigh as he moved his hand away and rested it instead on her thigh. "How bad do you want it, _ma chérie_?" he questioned.

"I'll explode if I have to wait any longer," she replied as she let her fingers skim the top of the water. Watching her carefully, he took her hand in his and lifted up to the palm to his face, kissing his gently.

"We wouldn't want that now, would we?" he muttered quietly. Christine smiled as she closed her eyes, savoring the feel of his lips against her palm. Taking her hand away, he bent down to press a kiss against her bare neck then moved up the column of alabaster to capture her pink lips. Finally having to pull away, Christine smiled up at him with hazy eyes.

"Erik?" she said, voice overflowing with unbridled lust.

"Yes?"

"I'm hungry," she said as she pushed herself off of him and got out of the bath. Grabbing a towel, she wrapped it around her body then left the bathroom, making sure the door was shut tightly. Erik sat, dumbfounded, as he watched his wife walk right out of his, in search of a better word, horny clutches.

"Fuck it, Christine," he muttered as he tried relaxing as originally intended. He'd let her go for now, but the battle was far from being over.

* * *

Sorelli stood in the ballet dormitories trying to gather up the chatting ballet dancers so they could put in more practice into their dances in the opera. "Ladies, please!" she shouted as she stood in the middle of the large room. "I know that you're all excited but we need to get this done and get it done _now_! I will not take any more of this stupidity! Now, everyone get in your costumes and I expect to find you all on stage in thirty minutes or I will show you the true meaning of hell!" All the girls instantly began to get ready, though they still talked amongst themselves. Sighing in defeat, Sorelli began her search of her missing, and pregnant, daughter.

Walking into one of the bedrooms that were led away from the main bedroom, she saw the missing girl sitting on the bed staring at a picture. It was clear that she had been crying: something she had been doing a lot recently. "Meg?"

"Oh, Mama!" she said, looking up as she tried to hide the picture. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear you come in. Do the dancers need to get outside?" Sorelli ignored her small talk and walked up to the bed, then sat down beside her. Reaching over, she took hold of the picture and pulled it out of it's hiding place. Looking down at it, she saw it was a picture of her, Meg, and Meg's father who had long ago passed away.

"Oh, Meg…" she said sadly as she fell silent. Placing the picture down, she held her daughter close to her, hoping it some way that it would give her comfort.

"It's okay Mama," she whispered, her voice choked. "I'll be okay. I need to go out and meet up with everyone," she said as she pulled away from her and stood. "You're going to get Christine soon, right? I don't wanna keep you up," she said before quickly kissing her mother's cheek. "I love you Mama. I see you in a few minutes." With that, Meg left the bedroom, leaving her mother behind with the photo.

Everything seemed so strange and she felt alienated now ever since word had gotten around about what had happened to her. Although she had no idea how the other dancers learned of the news, it was still the least of her problems. They all tried to ignore her at all costs and most of them would try not to remain to close to her physically. And to top the icing on the cake, rumors were spreading about who the father was.

Walking out behind the stage, she began to do simple stretches as she could clearly hear some of the dancers talking about her; and they made sure that they weren't being all too quite either. "I heard that it was a wandering merchant," woman one said.

"Well someone told me that she was raped by a stranger out in the streets one night," replied woman two.

"I think that she does a prostitution job on the side and she got pregnant from that," another woman commented.

"You know the patron? A little bird told me that he lured her into his house and took advantage of her after a few careless sips of wine," included a different person.

"You know Kathy? She told me that she heard from someone else that she's getting an abortion soon," woman one included into the conversation.

"How scandalous! Does she have no shame? She might as well run away and never show her face; it'd be better than _that_!" Very soon Meg could no longer listen to the hurtful words and she began to erupt in blind fury.

"_Shut the fuck up_!" she shouted as loudly as she possibly could. The group instantly stopped as they stared at her innocently, pretending that they had no idea what she was talking about. Storming over to them, Meg gave them the dirtiest glare she could manage while crying. "You're all the whores, you know that!? You have no life so you have to make mine already more miserable than it already is. Well, quite frankly, it's none of _your_ god-damn business who the father is! And just so you know personally, none of you can call yourselves human; just shells of people who all deserve to burn internally in _hell_!" she finished off before spitting on the ground before their feet and storming away.

When her rage finally stopped, she was all the way in the prop creation room. Seeing a winding staircase, she traveled up it and found that she arrived on the room of the Opera Populaire. Walking to the edge of it, she looked down and saw the tops of buildings surrounding the opera house. Carriages seemed like small toys and people were dots. Wanting to see further, she climbed onto a protruding statue until it was the only thing that her entire body was holding onto. It seemed so easy to her, to just end all the pain that she was going through.

"Meg don't!" someone yelled as she moved further. Turning around, she saw her mother and Felicity staring at her, mortified.

"I have to Mama," she explained. "I'm sick of it, sick of everything."

"Meg listen to me! It doesn't matter what all those other women say, sweetheart!" Sorelli yelled out as she carefully moved towards her.

"How'd you know I was here?"

"Felicity saw what happened between you and those women and we followed after you. Please, dear, don't do this. You have so much to live for!"

"Like _what_!?" Meg exclaimed as she clung desperately onto the statue.

"The people who love you. I love you, as well as Christine. And there's the baby too! Things may seem bad now, Meg, but I swear to you that it'll get better." Meg was silent, clearly thinking over everything. Soon Sorelli arrived beside the statue and reached out, holding onto her daughter's hand. "Please, Meg, come down from there." Staring down at her, she nodded quietly as she was helped down by her mother.

"I wasn't really going to do it, Mama," she whispered as Sorelli held her close. "I'm too scared. I just didn't know what to do, I swear I wasn't going to do it."

"Shh, darling, it's okay," Sorelli said as she helped her walk back into the welcoming building. "I think you should sit this opera out, you needed to anyways. Just go to your room and get some sleep." Meg nodded her head, agreeing, before she moved away from her mother and traveled down the winding staircase. After Felicity left as well, offering her apologizes on the matter, Sorelli sat down on the top step and breathed a heavy sign of relief. "Please, Lord," she whispered, "please get my daughter through safely."

* * *

E: Hello my wonderful fans! Erik would like to apologize on the amount of time that it took me to post this up.

C: This was ridiculous, Erik.

B: Yea, we expect better from you!

E: Oh well, too damn bad. Erik has been caught up in other equally important matters. To those of you who don't know, I have put up two brand new stories that I have busily writing. Then I just got back from spring break and my teachers immediately loaded homework on us.

C: Damn teachers…

B: Tell me about it.

E: Anyways, I know it's no excuse for how late it is and I truly do wish for you to excuse me. I'll try to put up the new chapter as soon as physically possibly.

C: Till then, we hope to see you all in the near future.

B: Make sure to review.

E: Bye everyone!


	15. Chaos Before the Dress Rehearsal

C: Hello everyone and welcome to the fifteenth chapter of Roses of Life. Before we begin, we would like to apologize…well, Erik would but he won't so I will…about any typos in the last chapter.

E: Erik was ashamed when he read over it again. Erik hates his keyboard! Stupid keyboard and stupid spell check on my stupid computer!… -knocks on wood-

C: Um…Yes…Back to the subject, we both hoped that you had enjoyed the last chapter none-the-less.

E: Erik is so happy about the sky-rocketing popularity of his Alice story! –squee-

C: Ah yes, that right. Erik wrote a story for Alice in Wonderland 2010. He's very excited about the popularity it's getting after it's only been up for—well to be quite honest a couple of days.

E: You're just jealous Christine!

C: I am not, how could you say that?!

E: It's already on over twenty favorites list and almost 50 story alerts. And as of March 29, 2010, I have over 500 hits from that story alone! Of course this story here is still my first-born.

C: It's a story not a child.

E: So!? A baby's a baby. And I'm still excited because when I looked at my stats on Wednesday (because as I'm typing this it's the date stated above) I have over 800 visitors and 1.24k hits! From all my babies! My Phantom baby, my Sweeney baby, and my Alice baby too.

C: Okay, onto the chapter before we lose you completely to your 'children'.

E: Ah, I agree. Everyone enjoy the chapter!

* * *

Roses of Life

* * *

Christine was fully dressed by the time Erik arrived in the bedroom in nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. "Doesn't feel too good now, does it?" she commented as he too began to get dressed. Smirking slightly, he kept quiet on her comment as he took out a shirt from the wardrobe and placed it onto his perfectly sculpted body. Glancing over to him, she smiled as she walked up to him, took his hands, and placed them onto her stomach. "How about you talk to little Jolee? Just like you use to, love?" she asked softly.

"Of course I'll talk to Nicolette," he finally replied as she walked over to the bed they shared together. Sitting beside her, he bent down again and pressed his ear against her stomach. "Hello my little Nicolette. It's Daddy," he whispered. "You're going to be so spoiled when you get here. You wanna know what Mommy and I are going to do? We're going to go to a little place that you're just going to love and we're going both going to play a pretend game. Daddy made it just for you so make sure you're listening to Mommy when she sings for you."

"Oh, Erik. You are just going to be wonderful," she said as he reluctantly pulled away and walked over to Christine's vanity.

"I'll try to be," he muttered as he picked up a wig that had been placed on their earlier in the day. Christine watched, curious, as he placed it over his shining black hair and pulled it down so it looked like it grew naturally on his head. Having it cover up the worst of his deformity, he then took some of Christine's makeup and covered up the remaining redness from his abnormality. Turning back to her, Christine was amazed. He hardly looked the same at all; like a completely different person. "How do I look?"

"No like yourself at all," she replied.

"Perfect then. Come on love, we need to get going if we plan to arrive to the dress rehearsal on time," he said as he took her hand and led her into the living room. Grabbing a heavy jacket and shawl, he wrapped her up warmly before doing the same.

"There really is no need to, Erik," she said, laughing slightly as he took her hand and led her outside. Instantly the cold ripped through the clothes and she realized that it probably was needed. Simply giving her a look of 'I told you so', they began walking across the field side by side until they arrived in the familiar catacombs of the underground Populaire house. A sigh of relief escaped her lips as the coldness enveloped her as they continued to walk until they arrived in the lake room where Erik had once lived. "It's been so long…"

"Yes, it has," he said, reminiscing, "but no time to stall. We need to hurry on and meet Sorelli."

* * *

After a short rest where she managed to calm her deeply upset daughter then place her by herself in the audiences' seats so she could watch Christine when she came, Sorelli walked through the backstage of the Opera House and up to Christine's dressing room where she was to meet with the leading soprano and Erik as well. Suddenly hearing two familiar voices in the room, she decided not to go inside and listened in on the conversation.

"There has to be _something_! I refuse to let that little pest ruin my chances!"

"I'm sure that there's something here, ma'am, just remain calm. Besides, if she was to show up here, then I have to hold her back so we could have a discussion about what happened to her."

"Well I want her gone and I want her gone _now_!" Carlotta hissed. Deciding that enough was enough, Sorelli opened the door and walked onto Carlotta and Marcel searching the dressing room. "Oh…Madame Giry," she said, feigning embarrassment. "How nice to see you. I'm sorry that you saw this, but I'm merely trying to help Monsieur Lafayette with his investigation."

"So I've heard," she muttered in reply. Stiffening her posture, Carlotta glared angrily at the elder woman before she walked past her.

"I must be going now and begin to prepare myself. I will see you on the stage…" she said with false kindness before leaving the room in a fitful temper. Looking over now to the annoying elder man, Sorelli saw that he was looking through Christine's belongings.

"And what, exactly, are you going in here?!" Marcel couldn't hide back his smile at her remark as he continued searching.

"I believe I have a search warrant for this room _specifically_," he said happily as he began to press against the wall close to the mirror. He knew that there had to be a secret opening of some sort in the room, but the question was _where_!?

"Why would you want to search this room?" she asked as she walked past time and opened the wardrobe to check that all the costumes were there and ready for wear.

"I feel like I had missed something the last time around…" he muttered. Sorelli rolled her eyes as she firmly closed the wooden doors.

"Just as long as you're gone when Christine arrives."

"…She's coming? Here?" he asked, instantly distracted.

"Yes, she will be. She's the star of the opera, after all."

"I thought Carlotta was just overreacting but this changes things. My, my… I should talk with her a bit. I just hope that she hasn't gone mental…"

Sorelli scowled at him as she began lighting the rest of the candles in the room as the sky outside grew dark. "She seemed quite fine to me. But if you wish, you may talk to her _after_ the performance."

"I will do just that then, Madame," he mumbled to himself as he went back to his search.

"How long have you been looking?" she asked, frowning after she finished her task.

"Since early this morning. I myself have search this room thoroughly," he said with a slight smirk as he moved closer to the floor-length mirror.

"Obviously," Sorelli replied sarcastically, "since you've found so much evidence." It was clear that she was mocking him.

"I have actually," he commented as he paused to take out a notepad and handed it to her. As she flipped through the pages, he began talking again, "Strands of hair and fingerprints." Sorelli glanced at the paper and wasn't impressed in the least. Finally pressing his gloved hands up against the glass, he broke out into a foxy grin. "Not to mention the secret passage behind the mirror."

* * *

Erik and Christine walked through the stone corridors of the underground world until they arrived at the familiar passage that led up to the mirror in Christine's dressing room. About to open the mirror, Erik stopped and held his wife back as he heard voices talking on the other side. "There's a secret passage behind the mirror? How does it work?" Sorelli's voice asked curiously as a small dent, a bump actually, showed up in the mirror. Even though the mirror was glass, the layer was very thin.

"It's a two-way mirror. We see the reflection, the person on the other side sees inside." _Close_, Erik thought with slight triumph. "I can tell because of the way it gives and the fact that it's hollow." A loud pounding was heard that caused Christine to jump slightly. Erik placed a hand on her arm as he continued listening. "It opens up from behind, but if I press down at _just_ the right point," the mysterious man said slowly as more dents appeared, "it should open up."

"If you say so…" Sorelli replied. Erik could tell that the older woman was secretly worried. A silence passed that put Erik's nerves on end but was shortly ended as the other man began talking again.

"Are you hiding something from me, Madame Giry?" it asked. Christine clutched at his jacket as she stared at the mirror.

"Who is it?" she whispered, terrified slightly.

"Someone," he whispered as he backed her slightly away from the mirror, "who doesn't belong here."

"Haven't we had this conversation before?" Sorelli asked, slightly irritated. "You say I'm hiding something, I say you're mistaken, you don't believe me. It's very tiresome," she muttered.

"You forgot the part where I get paid to do it," he added.

"Somebody's paying you? Even though you haven't found anything?"

"_Oui_." Christine looked over to Erik with a pleading look, asking what they should do. In reply Erik simply placed his finger before his lips as the conversation continued on.

"It's almost time for Mademoiselle Daaé to arrive, and time for you to leave."

"I'll leave when I feel like it, Madame."

"It would be very improper to be here in a woman's dressing room when she gets here."

"Well she's not here, is she?"

"It doesn't matter! Get out now!" she snapped at him. Christine flinched slightly as she moved closer to Erik. "You can talk to Mademoiselle Daaé later, leave now!" she said, shouting the last part as Erik watched her shoo him away. Standing, Marcel tipped his hat at her.

"Of course, ma'am. I'm sorry to have bothered you on such a trifle matter," he said before turning heel and exiting the room. As soon as he was sure that the elder man was gone that Erik opened the door and helped Christine out.

"Hello, so good to see you again Sorelli," he said with mocking kindness. "Pleasant evening I hope?"

"It was until I ran into him," she said as she opened the wardrobe again and handed Christine her costume for the first act. As she took it, she looked at Erik, silently asking him what they were going to do. He couldn't hold back his sinful smile.

"Don't worry about him, love, let me take care of it. I can make it clean," he said playfully. Christine stared at him, completely shocked with what he was suggesting.

"Erik! You can't kill him!" she said sternly.

"No, no," he said. "It's Sven. _Je m'appelle Sven_." Smiling brightly, he took Christine's hand in his and lightly kissed the top of it. "I'm to be your guard tonight, Milady. And I won't kill the man…yet…" A knock was heard on the door leading out of the dressing room and Christine frowned at him.

"We'll discuss this later, Sven," she said before walking away to open the door. When she did, she saw her beloved friend standing in the entrance. "Hi Meg," she said warmly.

"Oh! Christine, you're here early…" she said with a slightly worried tone.

"Is that a problem?" Christine asked.

"Carlotta's still here. She's very upset about you being in the opera and she been stalking around your dressing room since this morning."

"Give me a minute," Christine said politely before closing the door and turning to her 'guard'. "I thought you said that Carlotta wouldn't be in the opera?"

"The prima brat threw a fit with this house's pathetic excuses of managers. It was unavoidable, Miss Garnier, and she _somehow_ managed to get a spot in the play along with Piangi. She plays your handmaid, actually," he replied with slight bitterness as he stood beside Sorelli, who he had been talking to earlier. Sighing, Christine turned back to the door.

"All right, but I have a bad feeling about this…" she muttered before opening the door again to Meg. "Meg, I'm almost ready. Would you please tell the managers that I'm here?" Nodding, Meg smiled at Christine and began to walk away but Christine walked out and held her back. "Are you alright?" she asked, looking at her friend closely. "You don't look very well." The blonde's gaze drifted away from that of her friend's.

"I've learned something recently that made me realize that you and I are closer than I thought before," she muttered, clearly uncomfortable with the way the conversation was steering.

"What do you mean?"

"Christine…I'm pregnant…" Staring, shocked, at her friend for a moment, she walked back to the door and silently closed it.

"Is it Raoul's?" Christine demanded, her voice remaining soft.

"I…I didn't know that it would happen…" she whispered in response. Wiping her eyes, Christine felt an immense sadness as Meg began to cry. "I didn't think that it would happen to me. I didn't want anyone knowing after I found out, but somehow the entire house learned of it except the managers and I always hear people saying horrible things about me and I'm just _sick of it_!" she blubbered between her tears as Christine hugged her friend and held onto her tightly, almost as if she would disappear if she didn't.

"It's okay Meg, it's okay," she whispered. "I know it's tough now, but I'm here for you. I'll help you with whatever you need me for." Meg nodded her head in thanks, unable to say anything through her despair. "You should lay down, get some rest. I'll see if I can see you after the performance, okay?" she offered. Nodding her head again, Meg gave her friend a farewell hug before disappearing down the hall. Shortly after, as Christine was watching her friend leave, Erik and Sorelli exited the room.

"Are you ready, Milady?" he asked as he held out his hand for her. Taking on last look down the hallway where her friend had left, she signaled that she was ready and together they walked down the opposite end, towards the backstage of the Opera House.

* * *

Raoul stood amongst the large crowd awaiting for a person's arrival. He wasn't entirely sure who it was, but as one of the most generous patron's to the house he figured that he had a duty to be here to greet the person. Not to say that it stopped him from being completely and entirely bored out of his simple mind. As he stood near the back of the crowd, he thought of Antoinette and how she was probably missing him. _Poor thing_, he thought. _I should probably give her a nice surprise later today to make it up_. Chuckling to himself, he entered the present world again as Sorelli finally entered the room, showing that the guest was about to enter the room.

Gasps were heard from all around followed immediately after happy chatter. Raoul was confused. Who could be here that would cause such a reaction from the crowd? Pushing his way forward, thinking to himself that he might as well greet the person, he made his way to the front and fell speechless. In front of him stood his brunette goddess, still as beautiful and stunning as he had remembered; perhaps even more so.

"Christine…" he said as he began to step forward. He stopped himself, however, as he saw the man who stood next to her. Even though he was wearing a disguise, Raoul was still able to tell who the man was. "_You_…" he hissed under his breath. Fury filled his body as his fists clenched tightly as the man noticed him. Seeing him smile, showing that he knew who he was, he gently tapped Christine's shoulder. The young woman, who had been talking with another woman about what had happened to her, then turned up to look at him and he bent down and captured her lips in a kiss. When the broke apart, with Christine slightly blushing, he turned to look at him and gave Raoul a wicked grin as he wrapped an arm around her waist.

Not knowing how much more of it he could take, Raoul finally walked up to the man but was sidetracked once again as Christine noticed him. "Raoul? Is that really you?" she said with such kindness in her voice that he nearly forgot what had pissed him off in the first place.

"Christine?" he said, feigning surprise. "I thought that you were…taken away by the Phantom. What happened to you? Who is…this?" he asked as he eyed the taller man carefully.

"This…this is Sven. I ran away from Erik when I had the chance and Sven found me wandering the streets alone and saved me," she lied, though he didn't know it. Earlier, her and Erik had agreed to make up the fib if they ran into the man that stood before them. "We're…engaged…"

"I see…" Raoul replied as he glared at Erik who continued smiling.

"_Christine?_" he said in perfect English. Though Raoul didn't know the language well enough to understand what he was saying, he knew enough so that he was able to conclude that the other man was trying to throw him off. "_Who is this man_?" The beautiful woman clearly was taken by surprise, only able to understand her name.

"I'm Raoul," Raoul said, trying to take a guess as he held out his hand. Erik smirked.

"_I don't shake hands with your type. What do you call them? Oh yes, I remember: _rich pussies."

"I'll fucking kill you!" Raoul shouted, only able to understand the ending words. Tackling the man, he seemed to get incredibly happy as he wrestled with him. It wasn't long until he was pinned down with Erik above him. Quickly slipping out of his grip, he reached into his coat and took out a knife. Seeing the shining object, Erik got more excited and got off of Raoul just as he stabbed at him. Quickly tackling him in the gut, Erik grabbed hold of the knife's handle and twisted his hand so that Raoul was forced to let go of the weapon. They both stood again and continued their violent fight until they fell into another, much smaller room.

Shoving his knee into Raoul's back so he landed with his stomach to the floor he then grabbed hold of his long hair and pulled back so his neck was bare. Pressing the knife against Raoul's neck, Erik was about to let his impulses take over once again until something stopped him. "_Sven_!" Christine shouted, remembering to stay in character as she and Sorelli ran into the room. "Stop it! What are you doing!?" As she was trying to stop the fight Sorelli walked up to the door where people were crowding to get inside.

"Go away! This is not a show!" she shouted before slamming the door close. Raoul, taking the opportunity of Erik's distraction to free himself, slipped out of his grip again and stood. Panting, he looked around the room and decided quickly that he had lost the fight. Running to the door, he shoved Sorelli aside and pushed open the door. Turning back to look at Christine, he looked like he was about to say something before shaking his head and leaving. Watching Raoul leave, Christine quickly turned her attention back to Erik as he stood, panting heavily.

Making sure that he safely stowed away the knife, Erik turned to Christine and smiled insanely, unable to stop the pulsing adrenaline from ricocheting through his body. Worried, Christine ran up to him and allowed him to wrap his arms around her. "Are you and Jolee okay?" he asked, clearly worried about her. A cough was heard and Erik looked up and smiled amiably at her. "Why, hello Sorelli. Fancy meeting you here," he teased.

"Indeed, seeing as how I work here," she answered dryly. "By the way, wonderful job on not creating a scene. You really should be more careful," Sorelli advised. Glancing at a clock that was placed in the room, she said, "Christine you have five minutes," before she left the room to give the couple some privacy.

Resting her head against his chest, she sighed in relief as Erik held her gently. "We're both fine…" she whispered. "You called her Jolee; now you can't argue with me about that anymore," she teased.

"I can still put up a fight with that," he responded as he bent down and kissed her forehead softly. "You know that Raoul started that little spat, don't you?"

"Yes, Erik, but you provoked him. And her name is staying Jolee."

"Whatever you want, love," he said with a small smile.

"That good. I have to go now Erik," she said as she began to walk towards the door. Erik followed after her, holding out his arm to help escort her. Linking her pale arm in his, they walked together in silence until they arrived on the side of the stage, behind the ruby curtain.

"Don't overexert yourself. We need to keep you and Jolee safe," he whispered as she kissed him goodbye.

"I won't," she promised before waving goodbye as he left the stage and walked out onto the audience's seating. Choosing a seat up in the third row, he was amazed as he stared up at the wooden platform. Nothing was going on, but he could imagine the beautiful scene that would unfold in the first act and he realized then how happy he felt. The day might've started out better for Christine's sake, but it was still amazing that for the first time in his entire life he was able to sit down in front of the stage and gaze at the wonder of it.

* * *

Running downstairs away from the fight he had managed to escape, Raoul looked around to find a place to hide. Seeing Carlotta's dressing room, he thought that it would be empty and ran inside, closing the door tightly behind him. "Oh Raoul," a woman's voice whimpered. "I've been waiting for this moment." Believing that he was being followed, Raoul ignored Carlotta and fell silent, listening to any voices outside. Finally realizing that he wasn't alone, he turned to face her about to say hello before she stopped him. "Shh, don't speak. I know why you came here," she whispered seductively as she walked closer to him. He covered his mouth quickly, trying his best not to burst out laughing as she stood beside him. "That man was so…mean," she gasped. "I loved how sexy you looked when you were fighting and how brave you were," she said as she started biting her lower lip.

Attempting to back away from the woman, Carlotta grabbed at the collar of his shirt. "Leaving so soon?" she asked as she took his hand and held it against her breast. Now becoming frantic, he used his free hand and pressed it against the door until he found the knob. Grabbing it and jerking the door open, he saw a young woman kneeling against the door with her hand covering her mouth as her shoulders heaved. Apparently the girl realized that she had been discovered and looked up, smiling.

"I apologize if I'm interrupting anything, sir," Felicity said between fits of giggles.

"Help me," Raoul mouthed as he jerked his head towards Carlotta, who was glaring at the young girl. Winking playfully, Felicity quickly stood and wrapped her arms around his chest dramatically.

"Oh Raoul! Darling, I was so _worried_ about you!" she exclaimed as she rested her head against his chest and let out a relieved sigh. "I'll never let you out of my sight again, pookey." Carlotta visibly frowned as she continued to glare at her.

"You're _acquainted_ with _her_?!" she said, her voice dripping with disgust. Instantly loosing all interest in him, she shoved the two out of the room then slammed the door in their faces. Shocked and confused, Raoul stood silent as Felicity moved closer to him so her mouth was right beside his ear.

"You owe me," she whispered. Glaring at her as well, Raoul shrugged her off him and began walking away from her and the room.

"Tell me something that I don't know," he replied. Felicity followed after him until they arrived outside the opera house. Thankfully, even though night had set the air was warm with the oncoming spring.

"Where're you going?" she asked as she continued to follow him through the streets.

"Home," he replied with slight irritation. "I don't plan on doing anything. Just sit on my bed and sulk? Probably going to visit Antoinette."

"Your lover?"

"…You could call her that," he replied as they walked past several already closed stores.

"Are you pissed because Meg hates you and doesn't even want to see you? Or is it because Christine's already moved on?" His steps instantly coming to a halt, he turned to face her with daggers shooting out of his eyes.

"How do you know about that?"

"All the dancing girls know about it…" she replied softly. A strained silence passed in which Raoul thought her useless and began walking off again. "I'm sure she's not pregnant," she lied, knowing that he didn't know the news. "Don't worry."

"Hah!" he shouted as he stopped once again and walked back up to her. "What a thought! Imagine if Meg were pregnant, and was carrying my child, unbeknownst to me!" Raoul couldn't stop his cackling. Felicity stared at him, clearly offended. "My, Felicity, you sure are a funny one." Wiping tears of laughter away from the corner of his eyes, he patted her shoulder. Felicity, on the other hand, didn't laugh.

"From what I heard you two fucked like bunnies. Not to mention that Miss Meg has been acting weird. She tried killing herself earlier and tonight was suppose to be her last performance. Rumor has it that she's either leaving on her own, working another job, or is planning on running away with the supposed father of her supposed child." Raoul let loose another bit of laughter before ruffling her hair and leaving her side. "Don't say that I didn't warn you," she whispered as he vanished into the night sky.

* * *

E: I'm pissed. Fucking ALW. Fucking prick, ruining everything. I want to fucking kill him.

C: Vent. Just vent. I'm sorry readers, but he has to do this every once in awhile. If you don't wanna listen, just ignore him and go on to your reviewing.

E: But I am! I'm sick of him ruining everything! I'm sorry, but I read the book and I know what actually happened and it just pisses me _off_!

C: Vent god-damn it!

E: Erik is going to tell a little story. Gather round, gentle listeners, and hear the wonderful tale of the Phantom of the Opera.

C: I shouldn't have said anything…

E: Well you'll be joining so too damn bad. Okay, now, once upon a time, in the year 1870 in Paris, France, there lived a hideously deformed man that no one loved and all feared.

C: Dear God…

E: Now he loved a sixteen-year-old orphan dancing girl, while he was in his thirties, who he taught how to sing. She had a friend—or at least in the movie she did because in real life Meg was a snobby bitch that hated Christine. Her 'friend's' mother—who actually just looked after the balcony seats and was in no way a ballet instructor, that was a woman named Sorelli—was treated like shit by everyone, including the managers Firmin and André. Her rival was Carlotta—who actually was a good singer that all of Paris loved but for some reason is portrayed as a lucky bitch (not that I'm complaining). And, finally, she had a man she was in love with but couldn't show it. That too, children, is a lie. Christine loved the Phantom and actually tried to avoid Raoul until he stalked her and cornered her in the countryside where she was visiting her dead father and fell in love with him again.

C: You're going to give these people… 'children' nightmares.

E: So? They have a right to know the truth! –ahem- Now, Erik was not so good looking. Compared to the movie, he was 20x worse! Half his face was fucking melted off, or at least looked like it! Also, he was 50x crazier! Now, the rest of this wonderful history basically follows the movie. Men are murdered, women are stalked, notes are written, etc. Also, remember when Raoul chases the Phantom at the masquerade? _Another lie_! He does chase after him but gets lost in the Trap Master's (a nickname given to Erik) maze. Anyways, then we come to the beloved hanging/lake scene!

C: And this is why I tell him to vent. If I let him build it up then he explodes at some innocent person at school who will later laugh at him and he'll get mad again.

E: -still going on- Now here, little children, is were ALW completely went off the deep end! Sure, Erik gets kissed, but there is no passionate make out session! Oh no, it is a simple kiss first on his cheek, the marred side may I remind you, then on his forehead. Erik then breaks down into tears and let's them go but begs Christine to keep the ring he gave her to wear as a wedding gift for her and Raoul and that when he dies she will come back for him then bury him with the same ring.

C: And I'll take over from here because you tend to get a little…passionate with the ending history.

E: Fair enough.

C: Okay. What happened then was that Christine went away with Raoul and they got married. Several years later, they supposedly had a kid. They had an only son named Charles, after Erik's father. But it is rumored to not have been Raoul's at all! Some people (our Erik here being one of them) strongly believe that, in her marriage, Christine snuck back over to Erik and, to say it in a nutshell, had sex with him and that Charles is the result of this union. What evidence? Well, Charles looked more like Erik than Raoul so he was believed to be Erik's son. Beside that, Erik soon died and Christine came to the catacombs and fulfilled his last wish. The End.

E: But _no_! ALW has to screw up _everything_! In Love Never Dies (the POTO sequel) Erik goes with Madame Giry and Meg to New York where he is 'accepted' and meets this completely perfect girl. She's gorgeous and has a perfect voice and loves him and so much crap and it makes me so _pissed_! Argh! –grabs a torch- Kill ALW! I dare every single one of you readers reading this to read Gaston Leroux's book and compare and you will see how fucked up ALW is!

C: As the story progress down the line, Erik appeared more sympathetic and the story changed from that of horror and murder to a love story. Also, Gaston Leroux's story is the closest because he wrote it off an account of an interview-like thing he had after talking to a man who Erik had basically told his whole life's story before he died.

E: And I dare you to prove me wrong!

C: Okay now it's time to start calming down, Erik.

E: _Never_! –starts burning down pictures of Raoul- Burn, baby, burn!

C: Okay, sorry for the long A/N. Please review and we both hope to see you all chapter.


	16. The Opera

E: My fire sacrificed to the writing gods is burning brighter than in ever has in my entire life!

C: Oh god, what's happened now?

E: I must defeat her. I must be better! Damn it, I will prove myself!

C: Prove yourself with what? Erik, you're acting crazier than normal.

E: Ha! I know not the meaning of this word. I'm telling you, Christine, I must defeat her. I will make my story so addicting people won't be able to tear their eyes away until they finish reading it!

C: Well then you have fun with that. We just want to point out something in the typing below. The use of italicizing has changed but it still pretty similar. It's still used for French words, people speak English, and finally emphasis on certain words. Of course, you'll have to use content clues to figure out which is which. Hopefully Erik will find a better way to do this…

E: I refuse to use capitalization for emphasis, you know that. Looks too…unprofessional. And I'm just that type of person by nature.

C: Anyways, another thing is the play being written.

E: Ah yes. Although it is mention on several accounts that it is an opera I've not created any lyrics for it. Just so you understand, it starts out from the normal point of view from Erik and Christine but then I change it to where you see it from the actual view of the characters in the opera. Have fun and enjoy it.

C: And likewise with the chapter. See everyone at the ending author's notes.

* * *

Roses of Life

* * *

The first act truly was, to say the very least, a masterpiece. Christine sang beautifully as she and the other actors told the story of Sophia, the leading role in the play, before her life fell into despair. It told of her parents and how they all lived together happily until the day that both her mother and father grew ill and died in the heart of winter while their lives were still in the summer. Sophia was then passed along from family to family until she was left with a distant relative; a man who lived alone. The man, Emery, hated the beautiful woman and forced her to remain in her bedroom like a prisoner, with her handmaiden as her only company. Piangi was the man who had played Emery and Carlotta, as Erik had informed his lover earlier, played the handmaid.

Now the second act was starting up and Erik intended to surprise Christine as he stood in the wings of the stage covered by the red velvet curtains. The scene was once again in Sophia's bedroom as the beautiful girl sat at a window seat, gazing longingly out at the fake window. A sound exploded, one similar to that off a door slamming opened, and Piangi walked into the room. The song Erik had created, one full of hate and anger and misunderstandings, filled the cavernous room as Christine and Piangi continued their song. It soon ended with Sophia being 'slapped' and Emery leaving the room with fury still inside him. Erik couldn't have possibly picked a better cast.

Sobs were heard as Christine stayed where she was, fallen on the ground, as some time passed. After a few short moments, she lifted herself up from the ground and stared out at the window. Another song, far different from the earlier one, was spread around the room like an intoxicating memory. This time, it sung of a longing to feel the wind move past her once again and to feel the love she had once been surrounded by. It was short and soon she fell silent once again as she remained where she was. Smiling, Erik quickly fixed his disguise before he walked onto the main stage and walked past the window with happy oblivion, trying his best to act the part. Pretending that he had noticed Christine's fake sobs, he turned to look in the window and the second scene began to unfold the love story within.

* * *

"Mademoiselle?" the stranger asked her as she remained on the floor. Taken by surprise, Sophia quickly stood up, her back facing away from him as her arms were raised to protect herself. "I'm not going to hurt you…" he said as he walked closer to the small window. Noticing her tears, he frowned slightly. "What makes you cry so?" Sophia stared at him, her tears having stopped, thinking over whether she should tell the strange man what did indeed trouble her enough to bring about tears of sorrow.

"Tis my guardian, monsieur," she answered, her voice wary as she eyed him with slight suspicion. "He keeps me locked away in this room, day and night."

"So you're the mysterious orphan girl," he teased with a slight smile as he climbed into the room through the window. "You've been quite the news, Miss Sophia. The master's adopted daughter, hidden away from the beauty of the world." The look that she gave him caused his smile to disappear as he realized that he was probably upsetting her further. Bowing low, he kept his gaze to the ground as he muttered, "I apologize if I've upset you with my remarks." He didn't realized fully why he was doing it, never before had he apologized to a girl who was anything lower than nobility. True, Sophia was of that stock, but the apology was sincere instead of the normal bull he would spew out of his mouth.

"There truly is no need to if you'd sooner toss me aside in your thoughts," she hissed in reply as she backed further away from the stranger. A peculiar feeling of sadness passed through him as she tried to separate herself. "Besides, I've much to do. I can't be bothered with trifle men such as yourself."

"How long has it been since you were last outside?" he asked her with great care in his voice. The question caught Sophia off guard and she was unable to hide her burning cheeks from the attention he was giving her; the most she had received in a long time.

"…Since my parents died several years ago."

"Well…would you like to come outside?" Like the last one, his boldness of the questions he asked caught her completely off guard. The reaction nearly caused her to accept his offer but she stop herself before the words escaped her lips. Though she longed to go outside —such was what most of her dreams consisted of —the thought of what her guardian, Emery, would do to her if he found out caused a cold chill to run down her spine and freeze her to the bone.

"I can't," she replied with some sadness as she wrapped her arms around her body, trying to drive out the coldness starting to envelop her with her thoughts. Staring at him, she watched as a smile slowly crept onto his face as he stared at her in return.

"Your lips tell me 'no'," he said, "but your eyes are begging 'yes'," Taking her small hand in his, he helped her inch closer to the window as he feed her words of persuasion. "Just come outside. The master has gone off to a party and won't return for some time. What he won't know won't hurt him," he said as he led her closer and closer to the open window.

Unsure, she looked into his dark eyes and somehow found courage and trust in them. It seemed like they promised her that they wouldn't allow any harm to ever come to her and it gave her the strength to finally nod her head and tighten her grasp on his hands until finally she stepped through the window.

The very first thing she noticed, took into full account, was how the wind passed through her body and pressed against her face. Though the breeze was light, she couldn't help but light up as she felt her familiar friend. Next it was the freshness of the air, then the colors, then the sounds she heard. It took every power within her to stop herself from running further away from him just to get closer to the beauty. Her strange rescuer smiled down at her warmly. "Do you not feel better already?" he questioned.

"Yes," she replied as she breathed in the first breath of fresh air, suddenly realizing that she had been holding her breath the whole time. Noticing that the sun was shining down on them, she looked up and realized as well just how handsome the man beside her was.

"You're just like a flower, Miss Sophia," he noted, his voice soft. "You can't smother them, or they'll wither away and die. The same thing happens if you ignore them."

"And how do you know that?" she questioned, her stubbornness creeping back after the shock of the outside.

"I'm the gardener that works for the Master," he explained as he slowly led her away further from her bedroom window and closer to the plants and trees that she always stared out at with yearning.

"Well, it's good to know that I'm a flower then. Which kind, do tell?" she asked as she turned to look away from him. The man's smile disappeared somewhat as he too glance away.

"Well, you certainly are beautiful like one. Perhaps a rose?" he offered as he glanced back to see her reaction. Her pale cheeks were brightly colored with pink.

"Thank you…" she whispered. Turning to look up at him, the stranger smiled before he noticed that he was still holding her hand and quickly let go of it.

"My name is Ames," he said, finally introducing himself as he bowed slightly towards her. Frowning at the loss of his hand, she turned to gazed at the beautiful flowers in bloom.

"Has he been kind to you?" she questioned, referring to her guardian. When Ames didn't answer, she turned to look up at him and saw that he was frowning. "Why haven't you left? If I could I would have left here long ago."

"As would I," he answered. "I ran away from my family many years ago. He caught me stealing from one of his maid's vegetable gardens and he threatened to hand me over to the police. But, for some reason I still don't understand, he offered instead to let me work for him and I agreed out of desperation. Trust me though, I've tried…" Sophia nodded in understanding as they reached the entrance to the maze known as Emery's garden.

"I haven't. I'm too afraid of what would happen to me…seeing as I have no where to go."

"You could run away…with me…" Ames suggested quietly. Sophia instantly looked up, shocked at his proposition but more so at the honesty of it. She had read of love at first sight in her many books she read for entertainment but refused to believe that it could possibly happen to her. It was a thing found exactly where she read it: a book. "Never mind, forget I said anything…" he muttered as he began to lead her through the entrance, going a few feet in before bending down and resting low to the ground. "This place is like another earth," he said with complete awe. "All these flowers, everything here, is breathing and waiting for the perfect time to show their beauty to all."

Picking up a small bud that had fallen onto the ground, he gazed at it sadly before placing it into her open palm. "Things die off and are replaced with new life, just like everything else."

"It's beautiful," she whispered as she stared at the small flower before looking up at Ames. Nodding in agreement, he helped her stand up again and looked over the bushes.

"Well, the hour has struck midnight and you must return home before your carriage turns into a pumpkin," he said playfully as he walked with her back to the window before lifting her up onto the sill, giving one last smile. "I'll come back in a few days, I still need to show you the fountain portion of the garden," he said happily. "That is…if you'll wait for me…"

"I see no other option," she said, bantering him.

"Then I shall return soon for your rescue, princess," he teased before he took her hand, gently kissed her knuckles, then turned and left.

* * *

Red velvet falling down before her, Christine smiled brightly as she got up from the window sill and looked around for her beloved. Stagehands around her bustled about as they set up the scenery for the next act. Not finding him anywhere, she was taken off guard as he approached her from behind and slipped his arms around her waist and brought her closer to him. "Surprised dear?" he asked playfully as he kissed the nape of her neck.

"Very," she admitted as she managed to turn around and let him hold her. "But isn't this dangerous? You could be recognized."

"There will be no one to know who I truly am," he whispered. "Monsieur Vicomte is not here, Sorelli and Meg know how to keep a secret, and that annoying little girl has yet to see my face. As well as the fact that I don't look my normal self, I highly doubt that I'm in any sort of danger. Besides, I get to be this close to you, _non_?" he asked as he pressed a kiss against her smooth forehead, not wishing to worry her.

"I like it, yes," she replied as she pushed herself away from him slightly, trying to stand her ground, "just please be careful. There's this girl around here who keeps trying to find you. I'm merely concerned."

"You forget that I'm the infamous Opera Ghost. Not only will I not allow myself to be caught, I also will not allow any harm to come to you as well. Furthermore, I already have two females in my life to be worried about," he said, teasing her with the last part as he let his hand rest over her abdomen. "I'm not going to be afraid of a harmless little girl."

"Stop it," she hissed, shoving his hand away from her. "People here don't know about that. Someone might see—"

"No one will see, Christine. Everything is just fine," he said reassuringly as he moved the hand she had forced away behind her head. Gently he massaged the back of her neck as he bent down and kissed her, erasing any doubts from her mind. After he pulled away she left a sigh escape her beautiful pink lips and it made Erik think again of what their daughter would look like. Would she be just as beautiful as her mother? Or would she take on the worst of him?

"Sorry, I'm just really anxious with everything. Maybe it's the hormones?" she said as he brought her close to him again and kissed the top of her head, lingering as he breathed in her scent.

"It's okay, Christine," he whispered. "After all this is over, I'll take you home and help you get nice and calm." Finally Christine felt herself begin to relax and she leaned into his warm embrace. "A nice, soothing bath, a wonderful dinner, a walk beside the lake. How does that sound, love?" he asked her as they swayed back and forth to silent music they each created in their own minds.

"I can hardly wait," she sighed pleasantly as she could imagine the night they would share together. "But, until then, I had better talk to the managers so no more questions are raised. Since you are…um, not in the capability of talking to them I'll be fine on my own," she assured before unlocking herself from the confines of his arms. Waving goodbye, she began to make her way towards the managers office, having only a few minutes before she would be called back onto the stage.

"Monsieur Firmin? Monsieur André ?" she called out as her knuckles rapped against the wood of the door. "You called for me?" The older of the two managers quickly opened the door as she was about to knock again and ushered her inside the dimly-lit room. Seeing only a single open chair, she sat onto the soft cushions as she sat across from the owners of the Opera Populaire. They both appeared frantic and even skittish somewhat as Firmin closed the door tightly before making sure to lock it.

"What's happened to you? Please say that you've not been harmed," André questioned as he sat down in his own leather chair though he seemed about to jump out of it to begin pacing. Clearly the two men were uneasy about something and it made Christine think that it was most likely caused from her husband.

"Nothing's happened. I've never felt better in my—"

"That's not what we are talking about!" Firmin hissed as he slammed his open palms onto the desk. It seemed as if he had enough loose sheets of paper on his desk to recreate the Holy Bible. "Where did you go? Who is that man? Did the…the…"

"Phantom?" she offered kindly. Shaking their heads in unison, Christine gave them an understanding smile as she smoothed out the pleats in her dress. "You should forgive me if the story is short, seeing as I'm on a deadline, but I believe I can tell you in honest faith." Again, another round of agreeing nods as they waited for her to begin.

"After the Phantom…kidnapped me I managed to make my escape while he was still gone. I do not know if he is still looking for me, or even if he still terrorizes this opera house, but he didn't notice I was gone until it was far too late. After I safely got out I ran as fast as I could away from where he held me captive—though the place slips my memory—and I was soon lost in the city. I didn't know where to go or who to go to, so I wandered around aimlessly for days, too filthy to be recognized as anything other than a beggar woman. Then, I met Sven," she said, her voice turning into a sigh as she spoke the fake name. "He was sent as a child to England, which is why he doesn't know any French. He saw how lost and desperate I was and took pity on me by taking me home with him to be taken care of. It's with him that I've been staying for the past two months," she explained as she stared at them, waiting to be bombarded with questions.

"But how did you come about here?"

"Madame Giry found me and told me that I was needed here. However, I must say that I shall only be here for this rehearsal and the opera itself, for now. I've promised Sven I would," she said with a slight, playful smile before standing up and lifting the sides of her dress out, curtsying to the elder men. "But for now, I must leave, seeing as the next act is about to start up. _Au revoir_ messieurs." It was with those parting words that she left the managers office and traveled back down to the stage where she was being awaited by her disguised companion.

* * *

Returning back to the opera house from her walk with Raoul, she realized that it was the break between the acts and Felicity was dead set on getting some information. Hell, _any_ information! She was growing desperate, needing to gain more knowledge on the elusive Phantom before the droning boredom of ballet got to her head! Darting around, hoping she didn't look suspicious, she managed to hide behind a prop that wasn't too far away from the brunette opera singer. Unable to hear their words, Felicity watched from afar as the man she had entered into the backstage with placed a doting hand onto her stomach. Could it be…?

"And _what_ exactly do you think you're doing?" an all too familiar voice hissed dangerously. Why did this woman always show up at the worse possible times?!

Carefully, almost acting nonchalant, Felicity turned to her prison guard that had taken the humble appearance of the widowed ballet instructor. "Madame Giry," Felicity said calmly, "I'm studying the Phantom of the Op—"

"That is not him!" Sorelli practically screamed as she grabbed the child's arm and forced her to stand. The girl she had a precarious grip on gave her an equally dangerous glare before yanking her arm away. "You…are…seeing…things," Sorelli said, her voice straining through each word as she felt like exploding, fighting every urge in her body to murder the pestering girl. Although Erik would have been proud if she succumbed to her wishes.

"No I'm not!" she exclaimed quite hurriedly as she turned to look back at the couple who were still conversing. "Christine's even talking to him!" Deciding to play along with the girl's silly games, she glanced over to the pair a few yards away from them, still whispering sweetly to each other.

"That's the actor playing the lead role," she said, lying somewhat though it was needed. "You're starting to become obsessed with what is clearly a legend created to scare the company into working harder."

"I am _not_ obsessing!" Felicity cried out, clearly offended at the remark as she turned to look back at Erik and Christine. "She's pregnant too! In a few months it'll be so easily noticeable that you'll wish you had believed me in the first place." That was it, Sorelli had enough.

Grabbing once again onto the upper portion of the girl's arm, she shoved her in front of herself before steering Felicity into an empty room like an animal up to the chopping block, though in truth she wish it were true. Finding a chair, she moved it forward and forced the feisty brunette to sit down on it. "Stop it! You're going crazy," she spat. "Sit here and clear your head for a moment."

"But why should I clear my head from what obviously is the _truth_!"

"Yes you do because it's not!" Sorelli practically screamed. Her already short fuse for the girl was beginning to shorten considerably. "Stop spying on Mademoiselle Daaé or I'll throw you out into the streets for the beggars to deal with you!"

"I'm not spying!" she retorted. God, Sorelli was going to lose it completely. "It's not my fault I'm _observant_!" _Good lord_, Sorelli thought, _how can this possibly get any worse?!_ Of course, since God himself was not being all too kind to the weary instructor, Marcel chose at that time to walk into the room.

"Good God I can't take any more of this!" she said before collapsing onto a different chair, never feeling more exhausted in her entire life.

"Pleasant to see you as well, Madame Giry," Marcel replied with a slight smile as he too sat himself amongst the two women. "I don't mean to barge in—"

"I'm sure you had no intention, Monsieur Lafayette," Sorelli interjected, sarcasm practically dripping off her tongue. Brushing it away, Marcel turned to smile at Felicity as her cheeks burned a shade of red not yet given a name as she sat in the chair alone.

"Felicity, is it?" A nod. "Of the Michelet family?" Another nod, this time seeming more sure of it's owner. "My name is Monsieur Marcel Lafayette," he said kindly as he introduced himself. "I know we've met before, but I was wondering if I could ask you some questions?" When no reply came forth, he assumed it as a yes and took out his notepad. "I need you to tell me everything that you know…" here he turned to Sorelli, his eyes gleeful, almost like he had won a silent game they've been playing, "about the Phantom of the Opera."

"Oh really?" Felicity finally said, smiling slightly at the question. Smiling back at her, he dab his pen on the margin of the paper to make sure it was working before readying it for whatever she was to say. Sorelli's fists clenched together so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

"Monsieur, I believed this investigation to be over with and closed." Almost as if to purposely anger her, Marcel ignored her words completely as he continued to focus on the young ballet dancer.

"Don't worry, no one is going to hurt you if you have anything to say," he said, hoping to comfort her in case she didn't wish to speak.

"I know," a short pause, one that nearly caused both Sorelli and Marcel to rip out their own hair, passed until she spoke again. "Well, I know he's here, even if some people don't believe me." A well placed glare was sent to Madame Giry. "I've also learned from an unnamed source that the Phantom's name is Erik, as well as the fact that he has impregnated the soprano Mademoiselle Christine Daaé who was formally kidnapped. I am also led to believe that Madame Giry is hiding something." If there ever was a time that Sorelli had wished Erik to show up with his lasso of death it was this time now to strangle both of the prying persons.

"Well, Monsieur Lafayette already knows that," she said with slight annoyance in her voice as she straightened her posture.

"You can never be to sure…" Felicity commented quietly back as Marcel began to finish up his notes. Glares were thrown across the room from both women as Marcel remained oblivious to the boiling fury. "Why do you keep on insisting that you don't know Monsieur Erik when you took me to visit him and Mademoiselle Christine at their house once?" she questioned indifferently. The pen Marcel was writing with stopped instantly as he picked up on the continued argument.

"_What_ are you talking about?" she inquired, staring at the idiotic girl.

"I think you know _exactly_ what I'm talking about!" she exclaimed, getting sick of being called a lair when she knew the truth! "I even know where their house is." She turned to face the investigator. "It's right outside the city. And I know she's pregnant because I heard her and her bodyguard talking about it. Don't you see it? The lead actor and her bodyguard are both the Phantom; he's just wearing a _wig_!" A sigh of exasperation escaped Sorelli thin lips.

"Whatever you're talking about, it can wait until after the show."

"No! _It can't_!" Felicity shrieked loudly. "You'll let them escape by then! You have to let us —_him _—do it _now_!"

"Be quiet!" the other woman snapped, her ears pounding at the other girls shrieking, thinking it nearly as bad as the screeching Prima Donna. "There's a production going on. Someone will hear you." Marcel continued to watch the spectacle with much amusement.

"It's not a production! It's a _rehearsal_! Besides, the lives of innocent people _are at stake_!"

"I don't believe there have been any threats at all during production."

"Maybe not during, but I'm sure that there were a few sent to the managers and a few unknown others without your knowledge," she muttered. Finally, Marcel had had enough fun and stood up from his chair.

"Well thank you very much, Miss Felicity, but I'm afraid that I must take my leave," he said as he stood.

"As do I," Felicity said with bitterness in her voice as she turned and left the room. A teasing smile played across his lips as he bowed, clearly mocking her, before leaving the room.

Furious, Sorelli gathered the skirts of her dress with a scowl as she left the room to watch whatever left of the rehearsal there was to watch.

The breeze was light against her skin but although the weather was promising her heart was heavy. It had been over two month since she had first met Ames and they had only grown closer together. With darkness as his cover Ames appeared at her window the night before with a promise to come and take her away with him the next day. Of course she had accepted and now she waited patiently for his arrival.

* * *

But it seemed no matter how much she waited he would still not arrive. Refusing to believe that he forgot about her, she soon gathered the courage to slip through the window and out into the open air for the first time by herself. Looking up, she saw that night was almost upon her and decided that she had to move quickly. Lifting the hem of her dress almost above her ankles, she began running towards the garden.

As she traveled deeper inside, she started slowing down as she entered an unfamiliar portion of the maze. Seeing a stone path leading away, she followed it with renewed hope.

Passing the corner of a large hedge, she saw a comfy house placed near the back and her face lit up as she thought of her love inside. Approaching the door, she looked down after she felt her shoe dip into something strange and foreign. Nearly fainting, she saw stained on her dainty slipper dark red blood. "Ames!" she screamed. "Where are you!?"

Something that sounded similar to a body crashing erupted from the house and caused Sophia to jump and tremble violently. Terrified with staying where she was, she carefully opened the door and couldn't hold back her gasp. On the ground laid her dearly beloved, his white shirt stained with the same liquid that was on her shoe. Dropping down onto her knees, she lifted him up and held his head close to her. "Ames! Wake up, Ames!" she cried.

"He's dead, Sophia," a cool voice said. Emery walked out from the shadows, towering over her delicate frame.

"What did you do to him!?"

"I killed him," he replied with the same calmness as before. "Your nurse told me everything. You've broken my heart, my dear Sophia." She looked up to her guardian, and demon in human skin, in pure horror.

"I didn't do anything to you and neither did he! You never cared about me!"

"You _disobeyed_ me! I told you not to talk to anyone! I _took you in_ when _no one else would_! And _this_!" he stepped forward and kicked Ames' dead body in the ribs. Sophia cried out in protest as she tried to protect him. "_This_ is how you repay me!?"

"I love him! We would have left! You could have been rid of the both of us." Bending back down, she went back to whispering in his ear as if it was all it would take to get him to wake the both of them up from this horrible nightmare.

"It's no use! He's _dead_, damn it!" Tears fell freely down her face now as she held distraughtly onto her lost love. "What are you going to do now, Sophia? Your lover is _dead_!"

"No!" she screamed in protest. Taking a step closer to her, she quickly got to her feet and instantly ran out of the house. Everything suddenly went dark around her but still she kept running. Suddenly, like a breath of wind rushing past her, she felt her feet freeze instantly to where she found herself unable to move.

"Sophia…" a distant voice called out. "I'm here, don't worry."

"Ames?" she whispered softly, to afraid of her own voice. "Is that truly you? I thought that…"

"I am," the bodiless voice admitted sadly.

"But how can I talk to you!?" Ames fell silent, causing Sophia's eyes to grow wide. "You mean…you mean we're both _dead_?!"

"Yes, my love. Emery killed the both of us." A shadowy feeling, one similar to arms being wrapped warmly around her and holding her close, though she still was unable to see her own love.

"So…we are to together?" she asked, slightly hopeful at the aspect. True they were both dead, but now nothing was able to stand in their way! It was now that the both of them could be together happily in heaven. The warmth she was feeling earlier left and another light brightened up her vision behind her. Spinning around, she saw Ames standing in the middle of the light. Grinning from immense joy, she started shedding tears of happiness as she threw herself into his arms.

"My dearest…" he whispered. "I'll never leave you side again. I…I love you, Sophia."

* * *

The rehearsal of the opera was finished off with a beautiful song which ended in a kiss that left Christine blushing and breathless. Smiling down at her, Erik brushed away the stray curls from her face as the stagehands began clearing away the stage. "We…we should act professional now," she muttered as she shied away from his touch.

"I've never enjoyed doing that. I much prefer setting my own path," he whispered as he leaned down and stole another kiss from her. Cheeks burning even brighter, she pushed herself away from him as he chuckled. "Okay, Christine, I'll stop," Erik said before kissing her forehead.

"Thank you, Monsieur," she said formally before turning from him and walking off the stage. Seeing the familiar guardian who raised her, she smiled down at Sorelli before walking up to her as she stood backstage. "Hello, Madame Giry," she said happily before noticing the strange guest standing beside the ballet mistress. "Hello. Who are you?" she asked politely.

"The detective searching for you, Mademoiselle. I'm Marcel Lafayette," he said, introducing himself as he took her hand and lightly kissed the knuckles. Christine stared at him, clearly confused with what he had told her. As she thought things over, Erik walked up behind her.

"Why would you be looking for me? I've been here rehearsing."

"Mademoiselle, you've been missing for quite an extensive period of time now. Everyone was extremely worried about you," he said, acting strangely pleasant. Noticing Erik as he stood protective beside the young soprano, he tipped his hat slightly. "Good morning, monsieur."

"I was visiting family in the country. I needed some peace and quiet after the…fiasco at the opera house," she said, trying to draw the older man's attention away from her defensive husband.

"We've been trying to contact you in some way for _two months_, Mademoiselle Daaé. Also, I had personally done some background research on your family as well as yourself," he replied as he reached into his trench coat and took out a rather large and heavy looking envelope from what must have been a hidden pocket and handed it to the brunette. "I found out, interestingly enough, that you've had no living relative for several years now." Ruffling through the many papers, Christine frowned as she became disturbed with the contents of the document.

"_Christine, what does this man want?_" Erik asked quietly as she continued to shuffles through the papers, though he knew she wouldn't be able to understand her. Waving her hand at him, she turned to look up at Marcel.

"Yes, they aren't my biological relatives but they were my neighbors before I came to the opera house, and I refer to them as my Aunt and Uncle," she explained before Erik moved closer to her, clearly feeling threatened.

"You were brought here at a young ago; you had no neighbors."

"I was seven," she stated. "We lived on a farm in the country. They were a family on the farm closest to us. We used to play together."

"I'm sure…" he muttered. Staring at her, Marcel watched as she closed the front of the papers and replaced them into the envelope. An idea formed in his head, but it was clouded with doubt as he thought of the little chance it had to be true. Madame Giry, he had noticed suddenly, had left already. This left him and the two people in front of him completely alone. It was worth a try at least…

Without prior warning, he pushed forward his fisted hand towards Christine's stomach, hoping to get a reaction. Letting out a scream, Christine was lurched away by Erik as her arm instinctively covered her abdomen. "I had no intention to harm you, Mademoiselle," he said calmly. Although it was true, he thought about how it might have been over-kill but as he watched the other man twitch with fury and realized that it probably was best.

"Well you sure seemed like it!" she snapped, trying frantically to calm herself down. Glancing up, she saw that Erik looked like he was about to commit cold-blooded murder with the old man as his victim. Maybe it would be better to try and calm him down first…

"If I did hit you, Mademoiselle, it wouldn't be enough to cause any serious damage…Such as a miscarriage…" he hinted subtly. Her brown eyes blinking in confusion, she pushed Erik slightly away from her but still kept a calming and reassuring hand on him.

"Are you pregnant, Mademoiselle? My wife was twice and I find it quite obvious when another woman is…as well as when she hides it. I will admit, it is quite difficult to know who the father is."

"I am not!" she said, obviously insulted at his suggestion. "I'm not even married; how dare you!"

"I highly doubt that. Besides, Mademoiselle," his formality was beginning to irritate her beyond belief, "you don't have to be married to have a child."

"I know that!" Christine snapped. "You are insinuating that I would have a child with a man that is _not_ my husband!"

"Who says you're not married?" he questioned.

"I do," she replied. Erik's glare became dangerous as he placed a hand on her shoulder and moved possessively closer to her. He wasn't liking how this man talked to his beloved.

"A little…possessive for a bodyguard, don't you think."

"He's protective, there's a difference."

"Oh really?" he asked pleasantly. Smiling kindly towards Erik who only replied in a glare, he readjusted his hat as he returned the glare. "Your wife is a wonton and selfish whore," he stated with the nicest voice he could muster.

"You bastard…" Erik whispered. "You don't realized what you're doing, do you? I'll kill you where you stand."

"Let it go…" she whispered to him as she placed her small hand on his arm. Turning to look at Marcel, she gave him a mocked smile similar to his own. "Good-bye," she said forcefully.

"No, please stay. Besides, I've still many more questions to ask you," Marcel said as he took her tiny hand in his.

"No, I'm done with your questions. Now let me go," she spat venomously as she jerked her hand away. Allowing Erik to hold his arm out to her, she watched with some humor as Marcel stood dumbfounded where she had left him.

* * *

E: How did everyone enjoy the chapter? I'm sure all my lovely readers cherished it as always. –smiles-

C: It took you awhile to update this one though.

E: A lot of things have been going on dearest. Stanford and AIMS testings' as well as my normal classes. My other two stories to write in, and finally the inevitable end of my relationship.

C: Seriously, if you want me to kill him I can.

E: Alas, no. No, I must focus on my goals. I feel like I'm losing my fans on this story so I'm trying to improve my writing so that I gather more as well. Me and Christine are going to have a big celebration together when we reach one hundred reviews!

C: Yes we're going to watch Phantom of the Opera and Cats and get sugar high and all sorts of wondrous tomfoolery.

E: It's lovely, really. Also I'm trying out for a play at my high school: a Midsummer Night's Dream. I just want you all to know that if Erik goes get into it I won't be updating as quickly as normal, but still wish me luck!

C: Thing's have really just gone by swimmingly. We're writing in our roleplay and getting by in school.

E: And Erik personally wants to apologize for the outburst last A/N. What happened was I read a fanfiction that was saying that ALW's version of the story was correct and I just exploded. I do love ALW's version of the movie (mainly because of the casting for the character's) but it was just the whole sequel thing that made me jump the gun. I'm not a big believer in sequel's. So please do forgive me for my earlier outburst.

C: Alas, it was bound to happen Erik. Now, we have a surprise for everyone.

E: A game! A game! We've created a lovely little game for you!

C: We might have mentioned before but Erik and our dearest Marcel have an interesting… relationship. If you guess correctly what it is, Erik and I will reward with a _very_ special bit of information that everyone seems to want to know about.

E: But we won't tell you what it is! –winks playfully- Finally, I have one final thing to say.

C: The next chapter won't be updated for some time. Erik needs to practice something that is crucial for the next chapter so hopefully the longest it'll take to update is…oh, I'd say two weeks tops?

E: Sad to say…she's right. But until then please try to hold out as best as you readers can. Erik loves you all.

C: Please review this story, as always. We both hope to see everyone as soon as possible.

E: _À bientôt_ everyone!


	17. Plotting

_**Setting: Graveyard, E and C are standing before a grave wearing all black as E is on the ground crying.**_

E: Why, Lord, why? Can you not understand that it wasn't his time!

C: Erik, all good things come to an end eventually. –pats shoulder-

E: But I loved him! How can I leave it like this! We hadn't looked at each other for a month and _this_ happened. –starts profusely crying- God, why do you hate me?

C: He doesn't _hate_ you…

E: Then why did he kill him! _Why, Christine_?

C: Jesus Christ, Erik, it was a CD!

E: Not _just_ a CD, Christine! A Phantom of the Opera 2006 Movie Soundtrack CD! –falls onto the grave crying-

C: It's just a little scratched Erik; you can still listen to it.

E: But it skips Christine. On two songs no less!

C: Well which ones are they?

E: 'Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again' and…and…

C: Oh God not that one…!

E: -tears up- And 'The Point of No Return'! There is no God! No God could possibly exist that is this cruel!

C: Okay, Erik, I know you're upset, but we need to start up the chapter.

E: _I don't wanna_!

C: Everyone…please enjoy the chapter.

* * *

Roses of Life

* * *

Dammit, he couldn't stop thinking about her. Her beautiful brown curls, her glowing skin, those deep brown eyes that sucked you in…It was a bad idea to go to the Opera Populaire and watch the new opera that Christine was the lead in, but he had no choice. Spending most of his time consoling the opera managers as well as putting his own personal time into the investment of the theater, it wasn't like he could avoid the place entirely. To put it bluntly, the whole thing was just exhausting him.

Still, he tried to keep his mind off of his troubles as his little blond student knelt before him and attempted to please him. Her small head bobbed softly as he smiled down at her; she truly was proving to be a most willing pupil to his needs. Running his fingers through the fine hair resting on her head, he tried to forget his thoughts. But it was all in vain.

"Stop," he ordered. Immediately doing so, she looked up at him sadly as he tucked his manhood back into his pants and stood up from the chair he comfortably sat in.

"Did…did I upset you?" she asked, fearing that she had displeased him in some way. Waving his hand in a dismissive manner, Antoinette continued to stay where she was but fell silent. Raoul, she had noticed, had stopped to stare into the dying fire. Worried, she stood, readjusting her uniform as she did so, and walked up beside him. "Is it that woman?" she asked innocently.

"Which woman dearest?" he questioned back, still staring into the fire. "I thought you knew that I've eyes only for you." Antoinette simply blushed.

"I-I just thought…since you came home from the Opera Populaire upset…that the little blond girl you spoke to a while back had upset you in some way." Unable to hide his smile, he turned away from the fire to face her.

"I've long forgotten her… after I laid eyes on you, mademoiselle," he whispered seductively as he took her hand and lifted it to her lips. The woman blushed further.

"F-Forgive me, monsieur," she whispered, embarrassed with her thoughts. Lingering on her hand, Raoul glanced up at her as he moved closer and moved his lips onto hers. Taken aback at first, she soon melted in his arms before he pulled away.

"I told you before," he whispered softly as his head bent down and pressed a kiss against her burning neck, "call me Raoul."

"Raoul," she sighed as she felt his hand move to the small of her back and press her closer to him. It was easy to tell that his interest in her had returned from earlier.

"Yes, Antoinette?" he murmured as he nibbled her ear softly. God, what that man could do to her.

"S-Shouldn't w-w-we take refuge in a-another room?" she asked shakily as she could feel one of his hands expertly make its way under her skirt and was now resting comfortably on her thigh. "I-In case someone…w-walks in…" she muttered, finding out quickly she was beginning to lose the control of her voice as she could feel his hands try to remove her undergarments.

"I suppose that you're right dear," he whispered playfully as he retracted his hands from her and stepped back slightly, staring down at her flustered appearance. Holding her chin in his hand, he lifted her head up to look at him as he spoke, "go and wait for me in my room. I shall come for you in a moment." Reluctantly nodding in agreement, Raoul watched as his submissive blond curtsied and left the room without another word spoken.

Though he had pressing personal matters to deal with, he held himself in check as he approached his wooden desk and sat in the fine leather chair as he took out something to write with as well as two sheets of paper. Thinking quietly for a moment, he soon scribbled something down on the first piece of paper then shortly after something different onto the second one.

Folding both pieces of paper into thirds, he poured wax over the fold and picked up a small bell and rang it. Despite the fact that it was very late at night, nearly two in the morning, he was pleased as a maid hurried to the study with silence and a respectful curtsy. "Monsieur?" the maid asked simply.

"Ah, Marguerite. So good to see you after all this time," he said happily as he finished pouring the wax, not bothering to put an insignia on the wax for fear that curious minds would look inside, and waited for it to cool. "How have you been recently?"

"Fine monsieur, thank you for asking," she said in a perfect monotone as she performed another curtsy for him. Raoul smiled in return as he picked up the notes and handed them to her.

"Take the wagon and stop by both the Opera Populaire and drop off _this_ note," he said, indicating the one addressed to the managers of the opera house. "And take _this_ one to my brother out in the country. He should be staying in the summer home and if you hurry you should return by noon." Nodding in understanding as she held the notes with great care she gave one last curtsy before disappearing through the door. As he watched her leave, Raoul was reminded of old times before he shook himself slightly and took off towards his waiting student. Even though he had taught her many…pleasurable things, she still was not entirely broken in. Tonight would be the night he would teach his delicate maid the art he believed to be expert in.

* * *

"Monsieur, you have to understand—"

"But I understand completely, Monsieur André. If you no longer require my services then I shall take my leave."

"It's not that, per se—"

"Please, Monsieur Firmin," Marcel replied calmly. "I wish not to bother you men further and use up both your valuable time and money if you believe my services little required."

"It's not that Monsieur Lafayette!" Firmin exclaimed as he stared at the man sitting calmly across from him. "It's just…there is little proof that this Phantom exists. On top of that, you've found nothing on him that the company and ourselves don't already know."

"Well I'm sorry to disappoint you, messieurs. All I can tell you is that this man is both careful and very dangerous. My suspicions were only further proven when Miss Daaé told you her story of what happened to her. The Phantom just doesn't seem like the kind of person to be careless enough to let her escape with the possibility of her telling the whole world his secret," Marcel explained simply as he crossed his fingers together before resting them on his lap. "Not to mention that strange man who was her supposed fiancée; he just doesn't sit right with me."

"I don't blame you. Personally, I just avoided him altogether," André admitted as he nervously began to file papers away.

"Then that's all the more reason for me to continue looking into this matter. I assure you gentlemen, that it won't be all too long until you will find this man behind bars. I've done a lot of things in my life, and I'm soon about to leave it. If anything, I intend on closing this case before I die," he stated, causing both managers to pale suddenly. "And if you no longer can afford me as a personal investigator, then I shall continue onward as a member of the law."

Both André and Firmin glanced at each other, a bit unsure of the statement. A silent message passed between them and soon Firmin was searching for something. "Do you remember, Monsieur Lafayette, how the Phantom's second opera was performed last night?"

"I do and I remember reading several reviews on it in this morning's paper. It seems that it was very well received amongst the higher classes," he replied.

"Yes, well…" André paused as Firmin stopped his searching. "Last night we received a certain letter and again this early morning." Marcel's interest was instantly caught.

"What kind of letters?"

"One was from the Vicomte, simply stating how he requested to see us later today to discuss an important business matter. But the other…" Firmin muttered as he held out a note to the investigator. Taking it out of the older manager's trembling hands, he instantly noticed the infamous red skull seal and smiled like he had just seen an old friend.

Without any words being passed from the two men, Marcel instantly opened the letter and read the inside contents.

_Dear Messieurs Firmin and André,_

_I'm pleased you inform the both of you that you have done well. You've finally seen what fools you have been and have finally started to pay heed to my warnings as well as follow my instructions. Now, I write to you concerning the new opera being performed after you read this. I wish for you, from now on, to do as you're doing now and stay out of the performances of the operas unless it involves direct financial business. Also, concerning Mademoiselle Daaé, I wish for you to leave her be and allow her to do as she pleases. If you are to ignore my warnings once again as you've done in the past, I'll see to it that you'll never work in this business again._

_-O.G._

Lifting his head up back to the two men, he held out the letter and watched calmly as they took it from him. "Are there any more?"

"Carlotta got one and, from what Piangi complained, it was so horrid she's threatening to leave once again," Firmin explained with an exhausted sigh. Both men collapsed onto their chairs as they held their heads in their palms as Marcel thought over the contents of the note in his mind.

"I shall see the Signora before she decides to do that then," he said as he stood up from the leather chair placed across the desk. The managers' heads shot up to gaze at him like he was mad.

"Signora will not listen to reason, only compliments and groveling," André said with a slight loathing in his voice. Nodding as if he understood exactly what the man was talking about, he took his coat off from the back of the chair and shrugged it over his shoulders.

"My wife and youngest child will be visiting the Opera Populaire later today in hopes to see me after so many months away at my office. I do so hope you'll have someone there to greet them properly?" Marcel questioned as he took his hat and placed it over his graying hair.

"B-But monsieur!"

"The patrons' are coming to visit today!"

"The woman is with child and is due any time now!"

"We can't reschedule!"

"And, like we've told you, we have a meeting with the Vicomte de Chagny!"

"Put them all off!" Marcel ordered, his voice stern as he walked up to the door and turned the dulled knob. "I don't care what you do, gentlemen, but if I hear from my beloved Aida that you've done anything to upset her you'll have to hear from me. And from the information I've had to look up about this place, I have enough to make you go broke."

"A-Are…Are you—"

"_Blackmailing_ us!" Firmin exclaimed. Both the mens' faces simply paled as Marcel gave them a curt nod before opening the door.

"I wouldn't call it that! 'Serious teasing' is what my daughter refers to it and I quite frankly like that better. Good bye messieurs, let's hope I won't have to dwell in what was spoken earlier any more than needed," he said politely before closing the door tightly onto the gaping faces of the Opera Populaire's managers.

Strolling pleasantly through the backstage of the vast opera house, he heard loud screaming in a foreign tongue shortly followed after by the sound of something breaking and Marcel decided to drop in on the furious soprano. Walking up to her dressing room, he gazed in through the open door as Carlotta continued to yell at Piangi and Sorelli, in that order.

"How can you call yourself a man when you can't even stop these _horrible notes_!" she screeched as Piangi tried to seek refuge outside the room. "And you!" she said, turning to Sorelli as her voice turned low and harsh. "I know you have something to do with this damned Phantom! And that little bitch, Christine, too!" she yelled before grabbing a flower vase and throwing it at the wall directly behind the ballet instructor, nearly hitting her. The elder woman didn't even flinch, just continued to stare at the spoiled singer.

"I would suggest you lower that temper of yours before it becomes your undoing," Sorelli advised before bending down slightly to avoid yet another glass object being thrown in her direction.

"How _dare you_! Piangi, get her out of here!" she barked, still not noticing Marcel who still stood quietly in the doorway.

"No need to madame. I can escort myself out," she replied with complete calmness before picking up her skirt and walking out of the room, sending a silent look of disdain towards Marcel as she passed him.

"_How dare she_!" Carlotta screamed before turning and falling onto a nearby chair as she snapped her fingers at Piangi. "Leave," she ordered, her voice somewhat returning to normal. "I wish to talk to Monsieur Lafayette alone." Giving Marcel a wary glance, he soon complied and left the room.

When the investigator was sure that both him and the soprano were alone, he stepped forward and took her outstretched hand in his before kissing her knuckles. "Mademoiselle," he said pleasantly before standing up to his full height once again. Smiling warmly at him, Carlotta pushed away her red curls as she stared up at him.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, monsieur?" she asked as she retracted her hand and rested it on her lap.

"No pleasure mademoiselle. My troubles lie in the fact that I've been told you are upset, Signora." The smiling woman's face darkened as she realized what the man had come for.

"When one gets death threats sent to her constantly, one tends to get upset," she snapped. Raising an eyebrow, Marcel took it upon himself to sit down and did so close to the woman.

"I need to see it, Signora. It might be the only way to catch this monster."

"Too bad!" she spat. "I am leaving this horrible opera house and returning to my home country; the place I should have gone when all this madness started!"

"I understand, Signora," Marcel whispered as he took her hand and held it in between his. "But if I'm to help you in any way, I need to see that note…" Glaring down at the gesture, she quickly yanked her hand away from his before standing up and walking over to her rather large vanity. Opening one of the drawers, she reached inside and took out a piece of folded paper with the infamous red skull stamp. Taking her time, she finally walked back to Marcel and held out the note.

Reaching out to take the note, Marcel watched with some disdain as she quickly pulled away her hand as she smiled down at him. "Ah, ah, ah, Monsieur Lafayette," she teased as she waved the paper back in forth with her words. "What do I get in return for this little exchange?"

Marcel smirked slightly. "Smart girl," he praised as he stood up from his seat and locked glares with her. "What is it that you want? Jewels? Money?"

"I want Christine Daaé out of this opera house and I never want to see or a _single brown curl_ again!" she hissed.

"And if I don't comply?"

"Oh? Then I'm afraid I might get so shocked that my hand will just…" as she was talking, she was walking closer to the fire blazing in her room and the hand that held the note lingered close to it, "slip."

Marcel gazed at the dancing flames then back at the paper as a smile crept onto his face. He had to admit, she knew what she wanted and how to get it. "Fair enough, Signora. In return for that note _and_ any future notes that are presented to you being turned into me, I will permanently dispose of Mademoiselle Daaé. You will never have to worry about her again." Pausing to think about the deal, Carlotta took a step forward and handed the note to Marcel.

Opening it instantly, the aged man began to read the note:

_Dear Signora,_

_I've learned of your…problem with my casting. All I have to say on the matter is that you are simply a spoiled brat and should learn the value of every little part. You've already learned the value of being the lead, and now I intend on teaching you by going backwards in time. First the helping role, then a minor character, and finally ending with background characters. Can't forget extra's and understudies too now, can we?_

_I hope that this will help you learn a much needed lesson before this houses' pathetic excuse of managers ruins my plans. Also, please do not try to threaten Miss Daaé with your ear-splitting shrieking before I decide to do away with you as I had with others. Let's hope this will be my only warning to you._

_Yours truly, O.G._

* * *

Things were so hectic Sorelli had no idea how anything could possibly get any worse. Carlotta was throwing yet another fit, Marcel was being nosy as always, Raoul was meeting with the managers, the two new patrons planned on stopping by before María has to be left at home, and the ballet instructor was so exhausted she swore if she was given one more task she'd collapse!

"Madame?" a well-known voice asked. Turning, she saw André and Firmin standing before her. "Madame Giry, Monsieur Lafayette has just…informed us that both his wife and youngest child shall be visiting our lovely opera house later on this evening…"

"What in the _hell_ makes you think I can do that?" she practically shouted, even though they hadn't even started their question. It was the last straw, there's no possible way she was going to put up with the evil spawn of Marcel Lafayette. "I've been working since before either of you even arrived here! I've been dealing with your precious Signora's tantrums as well as helping my ballet students practice for the next opera this season. Then Monsieur Conner and his wife are stopping by later today so I have to take care of them _and_ now I have to look after everything while you're off with the Vicomte de Chagny."

"T-Then who will do it?" God she was fed up with these two men.

"Mademoiselle Michelet! Have her do it!" she said, thinking it would be a rightful punishment to the annoying girl.

"W-Where can we f-f-find her?" Firmin asked, truly terrified from the woman in front of him.

"Look for the one who won't do her job in the ballet dormitories!" she said before finally walking away from the stuttering men. Sighing, she grabbed a stray ballet girl, gave her the instructions, then sent her on her way as she walked back into the grand foyer where she found María and Zavier patiently waiting for her arrival.

"I'm sorry that I had to make the two of you wait," Sorelli apologized as she approached the couple. "I had to deal with some fools before I could make my way here," she explained simply.

"It's quite alright. And I must say, congratulations on the success of the opera! It was simply…magnificent! I was told that it was written by the same man who did _Don Juan Triumphant_. I hope that we will possibly be seeing more of his work?" María said excitedly as she clutched onto her protruding stomach.

"I'm not entirely sure but I don't believe the next opera will be his," Sorelli said before leading the couple up the stairs. Passing by a notorious brunette, Sorelli reached out to stop Felicity before she arrived at the front doors.

"Just a warning," she whispered, too low for María to hear, "be careful around these people. We don't know them and quite frankly them being related to Marcel puts a bad taste in my mouth." Shrugging the woman away, she walked down the elegant stairs as Sorelli continued on.

Finally making her way down by the door, she gazed through a window outside and watched as an expensive looking carriage pulled up to the opera house. "Those people sure know how to flaunt wealth in style," she muttered to herself as the coach's door opened and a young woman stepped out into the chilly February air. She was beautifully dressed; wearing a deeply colored red dress with twinkling diamonds. As Felicity gazed at the dress, she was reminded of blood and it made her shudder even more so as she thought of the opera house's history.

Watching as an elderly woman stepped out after her, Felicity assumed that they were who she was sent to entertain and opened one of the doors as they made their way to the Opera Populaire. "_Bonsoir _madame," she said, curtsying towards the elderly woman before doing the same to the younger woman, "mademoiselle."

"Good evening. Have you seen my father?" the younger woman demanded after dismissing Felicity with her simple greeting.

"No, I can't say I— Oh! You must be Marcel's family. I apologize," she said, remembering why she was where she was at the moment as she gave another curtsy.

"Yes, my name is Aida Lafayette," Aida replied with slight revulsion towards the ballet dancer. Pushing back her long pitch black hair, she gazed around the foyer as she seemed to be thinking of something. "Do you work here?" Aida asked, turning back to look at Felicity. "You must, being dressed like that and all," she muttered, eying Felicity's costume.

"Aida, dear, be nice. She's simply trying to be hospitable," the older woman, probably Aida's mother, consoled. "I'm sorry mademoiselle, Aida gets her temper from her father. My name is Madeleine Lafayette. Who are you?"

"Felicity Michelet," she answered as she smiled at Marcel's wife. She was so different from her daughter that it hardly seemed like they were related.

Looking closer at Aida, she noticed that she looked very sweet and innocent, even fragile. But the way she acted and dressed showed anything otherwise. To Felicity, Aida reminded her of Carlotta; spoiled rotten but sweet when it mattered most. And to top everything off, her dress that she wore seemed to be one worn by women in the red-light district. Her mother, on the other hand, had a few graying streaks in her hair and was dressed modestly. The two women appeared like night and day…literally.

"Answer me!" Aida demanded.

"Yes, mademoiselle, I'm a dancer here. I suppose you're his daughter," she commented. "I'm sorry that it took you so long to get here, seeing as it's early impossible for you to fit your big head through the door," she said sweetly. Aida's fine features contorted in anger as she was about to yell at Felicity before she spotted her father walking towards them.

"Aida! My love!" the older man said happily as he approached the small group. Going instantly to his wife, he hugged her close before kissing her then turning to his daughter. "How are you both, my dearest? I trust your mother and Anthony are taking excellent care of you?"

"Of course, Daddy," Aida said, her voice instantly turning just as pleasant as her mother's. "How's the investigation going?"

"Oh it's going dear. Have you any new suitor's coming along? Or did your brother scare them all away again?" he asked as he patted her straight hair, smiling down at her innocent form.

"Oh, he scared them away. He's so overprotective! Thank goodness I only have one brother," she whined, her voice soft and low as she allowed her father to hug her closely.

"Well what can Daddy do to make it better?"

"Hmmm…You can make Anthony stop?" she offered with a playful smile. Grinning back, he shook his head.

"Sweetheart, your brother is too old to get orders from me," he said. "How about you find him a wife?" he whispered playfully. Aida's green eyes flashed for a moment before she covered it up and kissed her father's cheek.

"Oh Daddy! You also say that! Don't you have to get going back to your job?"

"Yes I do. You and your mother should run along now, thank you for visiting," he said before going back to his wife. "I'm sorry I have to leave so quickly dear. I promise you that this is my last job," he said before giving her another kiss.

Watching as he left, Aida waited until he was out of sight before taking out a slip of paper somewhere in her dress and started writing on it. When she was done, she handed the paper to Felicity and flashed a fake, charming smile. "Come along to our house tonight, I'll gladly come and pick you up," she said before waving goodbye and leaving the house with her mother.

* * *

Arriving at their luxurious home, Aida helped Madeleine out of the coach and into the house. Leaving the older woman's side, she stalked into another room filled completely with books and screamed with frustration when no one was inside. "Anthony!" she called. "You can't hide from me forever!" Briskly walking up to the ebony desk, she noticed a scribbled note addressed to her.

"What does it say?" Madeleine asked as she walked into the room.

"Aida, went out. Will be home before ten. Give Mother my love. Anthony," she spat before crumpling the note up in her gloved fist. Chuckling slight, Madeleine sat down onto a beautifully furbished armchair as a butler arrived in the room with tea.

"Quit complaining, your nineteen now and your brother is almost thirty. He's allowed to do what pleases him."

"So he's allowed to let me be unmarried for all these years! He knows I don't want to live like this."

"Aida, please," Madeleine said as she took her tea and sipped at it. "I'm sure that Anthony has his reasons for leaving on such short notice."

"Oh yes. Fucking random whores on the street then getting drunk is a wonderful reason," Aida muttered as she crossed her arms and sulked in the desk's wooden chair.

"Aida Reine Lafayette!" Madeleine exclaimed. "I will not allow you to talk in such a matter while you live under my house!"

"I wouldn't be here if Anthony would mind his own damn business…"

Heaving a sigh of fatigue, Madeleine continued to drink her tea as Aida simply played with the ruffles in her dress from boredom. "Would you like to tell me what you gave to Mademoiselle Felicity?"

"The time I plan on picking her up today," Aida said with a smile. Shrugging away the questioning gaze her mother sent to her, she started fingering the beading as she stared at a family portrait hung on the wall. "Hopefully, if all goes as planned, she will be well received."

"By whom?" Madeleine asked.

"Who else but brother dear?"

* * *

Humming pleasantly as she walked around the small room, Christine straightened out everything in the bedroom as she awaited her lover's arrival home. Earlier he had gone out for unsaid reasons and although she worried for him Christine pushed the thought aside as she planned on the evening.

"I love the way you look as my wife," a deep voice whispered into her ear as two large arms wrapped around her thin waist. Giggling slightly, she turned in his arms as her hands pressed against his chest.

"And I enjoy being your wife but how am I to get anything in this house done while you keep distracting me?" she asked playfully as she felt Erik press her closer to him.

"You'll find a way dearest," he teased. "A little cleaning here and there between the times I'm here."

"Erik I'm appalled!" she exclaimed in mock fashion before pushing herself away and turning back to her work.

"Christine, you know I don't mean that," Erik whispered gently as he ran his fingers through her brown hair. Leaning back, she tilted her head up to look deeply into his eyes and smiled warmly before he pressed a gentle kiss onto her lips. "You know I love you," he muttered before finally releasing her from his grip and began to walk back to the hallway.

"As I love you," she replied happily as she finished her task. "Now what do you propose I should do with my time now that you've return home?"

"What is it that you wish to do?" he inquired as he stopped at the door and turned around to face her. Christine stared at him, her eyes scanning over his body hungrily, though he didn't seem to notice. "Are you and our little darling hungry?" he offered.

Walking up to him, Christine smiled up at him mysteriously. "I don't know about the baby, but I certainly am," she whispered as her small fingers rested flat against his broad chest as she leaned her body into his.

"That wasn't the kind of hungry I was talking about," he teased as his hands drifted down to rest on her hips. Smiling coyly up at him, her hands tightened around his crisp linen shirt and pulled him closer to her.

"Well, you're the only thing I'm hungry for," she whispered quietly. Slowly, she could easily feel his need for her growing and she had to hide her joy for fear of being discovered. "But, I suppose we need to think of the baby," she muttered sadly before turning away. Both the desire in them still burned fiercely, but Christine knew she had to be patient or she would lose everything she had worked to get.

Erik stared at her eagerly as she walked away from him towards their shared bed. Staying silent, he walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her thin body once again as he bent his head down and placed soft kisses along her neck. "You wouldn't leave me like this, would you?" he asked calmly as his hand drifted from her stomach upwards.

"We must think of the baby, after all," she muttered. Erik smirked against her warm skin as he pressed her body up against him.

"Perhaps I overreacted on this whole matter," he whispered. "Maybe I should reconsider things."

"No, no. We wouldn't want to hurt the baby, after all," she replied before forcing herself to pull away from the tempting man as she passed him and moved up to her wardrobe and opened up the wooden doors. Reaching behind her, she began untying the ribbons that held her dress closed before she felt Erik's larger hands cover hers. It wasn't long until the ribbons were unlaced and the dress barely clung unto her body.

"You've always worn too many clothes, Christine," his voice whispered huskily into her ear as she could feel one of his hands slip through the opening in the back of her dress and rest momentarily on her stomach, forcing her to move closer to him once again.

"All the better to annoy you, my dear," she teased as her skin tingled under his touch. Her chemise offered little protection as his hand slipped up her bare stomach and under the thin material to form to her breast. She was thankful that she had stopped wearing her corset as her breathing quickened from the sensations Erik was giving her.

"More like to torment me," he muttered as his other hand slipped through the same opening and moved instead to her thigh. His fingers barely touching her skin, she gasped as she felt the feather-light movement travel across her leg until his entire hand finally rested between her legs.

"You caught me," she said breathlessly. A small whimper escaped her throat as she felt his hand that still rested on her breast begin to tug at her nipple mercilessly.

"I know I did, naughty girl," he whispered quietly as he bent his head down and pressed kisses onto her neck. "You shouldn't lie to me; you know I'll catch you every time." Slowly his fingers resting between her thighs moved back and forth, slipping effortlessly between her lips. Continuing the motions against her, he delighted in the wetness he felt as she moaned lightly from the feelings he was creating. Deciding to play with her, his other hand continued rolling her perked nipple amid his two fingers.

Watching as Christine lifted her head up to look at him, Erik smiled as he saw the slight blush color her cheeks and begin to spread onto her chest. Taking her lips captive in his, he kissed her passionately as he continued on in his torture.

"Erik please," Christine begged shamelessly when her lips were finally released. "I need you…" Panting heavily, she closed her eyes as Erik kissed her again. His fingers still played with her, pressing against her welcoming heat as her eyes nearly rolled back into her head. "Please…" she whispered, managing to flutter her eyes open as she stared up into his own lust-filled eyes.

Unable to hold back any longer, Erik moved his hands away from her before easily picking her up before carrying her to the bed they shared every night. Laying her down, he made quick work of getting rid of the bothersome dress before he soon stared at her form below him.

Letting out a soft moan as she felt the thin cloth being removed from her body, she stared lustfully at his own clothed body and quickly reached out. Removing his linen shirt, she pressed her body against him and shivered as she felt his weight rest over hers. He slowly, enticingly, began removed what was left of her undergarments as she pulled away his pants, freeing his cock from the confines of his trousers.

Running his fingers through the chocolate curls near her face, he leaned down and deeply kissed before trailing down her face onto her neck and lower still. Christine's breathing stilled as she trembled with pleasure at the feel of Erik's heated tongue running over her perked nipple. "Oh, Erik…" she sighed, completely at his mercy. Her fingers tangling into his black hair, she pulled him closer to her body.

Lifting his head away, he went back to her parted lips and, as he and her shared a passionate kiss, slipped effortlessly inside her. Reveling in the exquisite feel of her heat surrounding his throbbing member, he moaned into her neck as he lifted her hips and drove himself deep into her folds.

Christine could feel her body trembling as Erik began moving inside her, thrusting faster with each time he pulled out. Desperately clinging onto him, Christine was unable to keep back her moans and whimpering of pleasure as the pressure inside her kept growing. "More…" she begged.

Willing to comply, his movements quickened as he felt his own pressure build up inside of him. Trembling from pleasure beneath him, Christine's hands tightened their grip on his black hair as she pressed her lips onto his, needing to feel him in every sense possible. "Erik..." she moaned, lifting her hips up to meet with his as he became frantic, both of them desperately needed release. "Erik, oh Erik," she whispered over and over again as she hung onto him. "Please Erik."

Growling deeply, Erik thrust his pulsing cock deep inside her until he too start trembling and finally found sweet, blissful release. "Christine," he growled with pleasure as she began convulsing beneath him before screaming his name.

Laying still, Erik held his beautiful wife gently in his arms as he slipped himself out of her and rested beside her, covered in sweat. "I love you," he whispered, kissing her forehead.

"I love you too, Erik," Christine whispered as she rested beside him, exhausted. Smiling slightly, she watched happily as he soon fell asleep while he still held onto her. Lifting herself up slightly, she kissed his forehead as well, whispered, "I win," then joined him in his dreamless sleep.

* * *

E: I've noticed something that, for some reason, I've not been noticing till now.

C: What is that Erik?

E: Remember how we're doing this story as an alternative ending continuing from where the movie left off?

C: Yes, what about it?

E: And remember how we have Piangi show up for the third time in this story?

C: What of it—Oh wait, I see what's wrong.

E: And I can't just say it was a flesh wound.

C: Seeing as he was strangled I, for once, agree with you…

E: And he can't magically come back to life.

C: Can't allow that.

E: …

C: …

E: Happy Birthday Piangi! I, as God, have given you renewed life without any scars!

C: You are _not_ God!

E: To my story characters I am. –smiles-

C: …Only you will think that highly of yourself…

E: So? What writer doesn't? Anyways…once again I apologize if this chapter is…crappy. Or at least if the ending is.

C: For the last time, Erik, it is just _fine_!

E: But I don't wanna do it Christine!

C: Then don't do it!

E: But I wanna do it!

C: Oh my God do you know how impossible you can be at times!

E: …I like to think not very…

C: …-sighs- Everyone, you know the rules. Please review on the chapter and tune in soon for the next chapter.

E: Erik and Christine love you all and your reviews! See you for Chapter Eighteen!


	18. Changes

E: _I have an announcement!_

C: Please don't scream. It hurts everyone's ears.

E: I apologize on my behalf, but I can no longer stand seeing all those typos I have on my chapters. So, if you get any update letters on this story, I'm sorry. (I wouldn't know if you do because I never bother to look). But it's going to be because I'm replacing all these chapters so they are updated and typo-free!

C: Anything else?

E: Yes, but I'll let you announce it!

C: Why thank you Erik. -ahem- Everyone, to those of you who would like to know, it has been exactly 62 days since the very first chapter in our little story.

E: That's a little over two months! Go Christine and Erik!

C: It was real hard to count them all up, too. Much confusion in the chapters. And most of the time we guessed on the time passed since Erik here didn't put specifications on the days…

E: So what? It's my story!

C: We all know, Erik. So, we hope you all have fun reading Chapter 18. See everyone at thee ending author's notes.

* * *

Roses of Life

* * *

Combing several locks of midnight hair away from her pale face, Aida gazed outside at the growing night sky as she bounced slightly along with the movement of the carriage she rode in. It was in silence that she sat, glaring out into nothing as dazzling lights passed her by from clubs, bars, and other social buildings. Reaching out her fair hand, she tugged on a cord close to her and waited patiently as the coach fell to a gentle stop. "Mademoiselle?" the driver asked, leaning down over the side to peer in through the window.

Seeing her cold, yet entrancing expression, the man wasn't sure whether to implore her request or simply to wait for her to answer him. Green eyes glancing at him through thick lashes, he immediately understood and climbed down from his seat atop the vehicle. Grabbing the brass handle, he opened the side door just as Aida began to step out of the cushioned compartment. "Shall I wait for you here until you return?" he offered kindly as he helped her out. The white, flowing dress she wore formed around her shapely legs as the wind blew by her and the man couldn't help but stare.

"Samuel!" she hissed, forcing his attention back to her face.

"S-So sorry, mademoiselle," he mumbled, watching as she forced the long ebony hair away from her face as the wind continued to blow.

"Take the carriage down to the Opera Populaire. If I don't find you there when I arrive you'll be finding yourself in an unwelcoming situation," she threatened him before striding past the man and up to a nearby pub a few feet away from where she had stopped.

Upon stepping inside, Aida gazed across the bar in a sickened manner. Taking out a small handkerchief, she pressed it slightly against her mouth and nose before forcing herself to step inside the insulting room. Slowly making her way through the thinly dispersed room, she searched around for the person she was looking for. "Hey, little doll, what are you doing in a place like this?" a man asked her with a crooked smile.

Her eyes slitting in a dangerous manner, she stepped back slightly as she pressed the cloth closer to her mouth. "I'm looking for someone," Aida answered plainly.

"Don't think you'd be one to get into that business. What's wrong, some guy jump out on your pay?"

"Pardon me?"

"It's okay darling. If you want, you can show me some fun and I'll pay for the both of us—"

"I'm not a forty franc whore," she spat. "I'm looking for my brother. His name is Anthony; have you seen him?"

"Anthony?" the man repeated. "Can't say I ever heard of him…" Sighing, she reluctantly lowered the cloth she held close to her face and dug into a hidden pocket in the folds of her dress. Taking her hand out, she placed several strips of paper money onto the counter in front of the man as she gave him a half smile. "Anthony, you say? Last I saw he was headin' upstairs with some real fine lookin' ginger."

"Thank you for your services…"

"Pleasure's all mine, mademoiselle," the man replied with a broad smile, watching her retreating back as she began to climb the creaky wooden stairs.

"Anthony!" she called out. "Come out here right now!" she demanded, walking up to the only closed door in the hallway. A loud crashing noise was heard followed by a woman's voice and her brother's retorting at her. The knob clicked and Anthony soon stood in front of his younger sister, half clothed.

"Do you mind?" he insisted, his body blocking her view inside the room.

"Actually, I do," she muttered. "Get dressed and forget the slut. I have someone for you to meet."

"I'll do no such thing," he replied. Blowing his own dark brown hair away from his slightly tanned skin, he turned and began to close the door but it was stopped as Aida stuck her foot in the door's path.

"And I'm sick of you," she whispered, forcing herself through the door. As she tried to walk past the towering man, she felt a strong hand grip her shoulder and drag her back before she was able to get a glimpse at the naked woman resting on the only bed in the room. Looking innocently up at her brother, she tried to keep a serious face as he appeared about to strangle her to death. "I've a person I want you to meet. It'd do you well to get dressed and come along with me?"

"And if I don't?"

"I'll tell Father that you've been dabbling in the very thing that he's been working to get rid of all these lonely years..." she muttered, loud enough for him to hear but too low for the other woman. Smiling up at him, she yanked her shoulder away from his grip and walked further into the room. Ignoring the sequels of embarrassed protest from the woman who was laying on the small bed, she strode up to a pile of tossed aside clothing and rummaged through the cloth. Taking out a white linen shirt, she tossed it to her speechless brother before managing to grab more clothing: a vest, a black tie, and his jacket.

Gathering the articles in her arms, she grabbed her brother's arm and forced him out of the room, not once looking back at the woman who watched them in complete silence. "Very well, beloved sister. Who is it that you wish for me to meet?" he offered as he was dragged into a nearby bathroom.

Forcing him to stand still, Aida dressed him like one would a child, guiding his limbs through the various holes where they belonged. "She's a woman that I found in the opera house. I thought she seemed your type, so I scheduled a time for her to meet with you," Aida explained simply as she buttoned together his black vest. Seeing a red ribbon peaking out of a vest pocket, she glanced up at him questioningly.

"I do so hope she's more interesting than the one that Mother made me meet the last time," he added, reaching for the ribbon and taking it out. Gazing into his reflection from the mirror beside him, he smiled brightly at his image. Feeling the silk of his tie tighten around his throat, he gathered his slightly long hair and tied it firmly back with the ribbon he had grabbed earlier.

"I'm sure that she will be." Helping him placed his jacket onto his body, she grabbed the ends of them and yanked down hard, removing any wrinkles from earlier. "Presentable," she said in slight approval. Nodding, Anthony reluctantly followed after his sister out of the pub and into the night air. Not seeing the family carriage, he glanced down at her, only to receive no response. With a heavy sigh, he began to follow after her.

Walking for a few minutes in absolute silence, they eventually made it to the Opera Populaire and stepped inside the nearly deserted foyer. "Mademoiselle?" a man asked who stood by the open door.

"Fetch me Felicity Michelet," Aida ordered in her perfect monotone.

"What was that name you said?" Anthony inquired as the man nodded and left them to themselves.

"Felicity?"

"No. No, the last name."

"Michelet?" she offered, slightly annoyed with his persistence. Watching her brother's tan skin pale caused some worry to grow in her, but only out of the possibility of not getting him to marry than that for his well being. "Is something wrong with her?"

"Something? _Everything_ is wrong with her!" he exclaimed.

"Monsieur?" a gentle voice asked. Closing his mouth tightly shut, Anthony turned to face Felicity as she stood in front of them both, dressed in a simple white gown. "Am I interrupting something?" she quietly asked.

"No, nothing at all," he replied, plastering on his most charming smile that he could manage with the anger building up inside him from his pestering sister. "I didn't know that Aida had any...dancing...friends..." he said through a strained voice as he gazed over her. Lanky, not to many curves, short and clipped hair, she was anything but amazing. "Anthony Lafayette," he introduced himself, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips. "And what, may I ask, is yours?"

"F-Felicity Michelet..." Felicity whispered in wonder. A slight blush filled her cheeks as she stared at the handsome man standing before her.

"What a wonderful name. And belonging to such a beautiful woman," he lied. If possible, Felicity blushed further as she tried to manage a curtsy. "Why would you want me to meet such a woman, sister dear?" he said an underlying tone of anger hidden within his voice. Aida clearly frowned as she walked up so she stood between the two people.

"I thought that you might like her," she explained.

"Aida," he strained. "This is the daughter of Father's very..._very_ important friend."

"And...?"

"I'm sorry dear," he said quickly, indicating towards Felicity. "I must talk to my sister for a short moment." Taking his Aida's hand, he practically dragged her halfway across the foyer until he deemed it safe enough to talk. "Why did you _really_ bring her here Aida?!" he demanded.

"Well, you were scaring away all my suitors. I thought that if you had a wife, she'd make you stop," Aida replied, annoyed at him and his reaction. "But I didn't know that she was the daughter of Father's friend. Isn't that a good thing, though? She's rich."

"True, but she's also the 'black sheep' in her family. Rumor is going around that her parents gave up on trying to get her to conform and handed her off to the ballet instructor here to try to teach her some discipline and get rid of her," he muttered, glancing back to look at her as she continued to stand in complete silence. "Besides, she's so..._plain_..."

"No, she's not--" she said, but was stopped as Anthony glanced at her then back at Felicity. "Okay, she is," Aida admitted, rolling her eyes as she forced him to look back at her. "But that's beside the point. Marry her! Get into her fortune, secure an heir, then just do whatever the hell you want."

"But it'll ruin my reputation..." he whined slightly.

"You have no reputation," Aida pointed out.

"Oh, I do mademoiselle," he muttered with a small smile. "I have women lining to streets just to bed with me." Looking back at Felicity as she stared interestingly at a vase near the door, he let out a defeated sigh. "Perhaps I should settle down. It would benefit both our families if we were to marry, after all. And I do need an heir to secure the family name. What do you think, Aida?"

"Must you even ask? I want to be married; and I would have been had you not scared all my potential away!" she hissed. "And they are not _lining_ the streets!" Aida added hotly.

"You're right, they're filing through the whole city," Anthony said with a broad grin. Laughing slightly, he ruffled the top of his sister's ebony hair as he gazed down at her. "Why are you so keen on marrying? My dear hot-headed sister, you are still so young," he teased as she glared up at him.

"It doesn't matter now; what do you plan on doing?" Reviewing the brunette once again, Aida could almost see the gears in her brother's head begin to turn as a smile slowly dawned upon his face.

"I'll send a letter to her parents, inviting them over to our house. Take her home now and make her feel welcome," he instructed before he began to head deeper into the opera house.

"Where are you going?" Aida demanded.

"I'm going to have some fun with the...well learned women here before I start my new life as Mademoiselle Michelet's beloved husband."

* * *

God, she was beautiful. Even when she peacefully slept he was still amazed by her entire being. And it wasn't just her that he would need to think about now a day. Letting his gaze fall down Christine's body, his eyes rested steadily over her stomach. How long had it been since he learned of her pregnancy? And even longer before she told him? Counting the days in his head, he stared down in amazement as he realized that it had only been a mere four days that they were married. It couldn't be possible, it had seemed like so much more time had passed since that day. Reaching out a tender hand, his fingers brushed against the soft skin of her cheek as he continued to silently stare down at her resting form.

Was it possible for him to have such joy? Such beauty? Such...love?

No. He couldn't think such things. He wouldn't _allow_ himself to think of such things. Christine would constantly remind him and show him that she loved him wholly and deeply. How could he think the thoughts that he was? She loved him; she was with him in security. Things were calm for now in their lives. If anything, he should be feeling joy! Especially with the prospect of a child on the way that wasn't just hers, but his as well!

But thoughts continued to lurk in the back of his mind. How could she possibly love him? Harbor his child that was probably disfigured just as he was. Sure, she would assure him constantly that their child would have nothing wrong with her, but still Erik doubted her words.

It was painful to stare at her. Her perfect being that should have never been taken away. Unable to look at her any longer, Erik stood up from the bed and quickly dressed himself. Sneaking a glance out the wide window in their room, he stared at the landscape and could tell that it was cold outside. Making sure that he dressed properly for the temperature awaiting him outside, he looked back to Christine and let out a brief sigh. He didn't want to leave her, forcing her to awake only to find she was alone in the warm bed. But he had no choice; it was causing him grief and sickness as he looked at her.

Striding out of the room, he quickly headed outside and soon enough found himself strolling through the freezing streets of Paris. It had seemed that during the time he had slept that the day had completely disappeared only to have night take over once again. Able to see his white breath against the air, he noticed a warm-looking pub and stepped inside. Happy chatter mixed with the crackling of the fire and Erik was glad to see that there was an open table near the back of the room almost shrouded in darkness despite the roaring fire. Taking a seat at the table, he quickly ordered a drink, making sure his face was well hidden from prying eyes, and began to sip at the foaming liquid as he continued to mull over his problems.

"Hey," a woman's voice said happily. Growling under his breath, Erik glanced up only to see a peppy looking red head staring down at him in joy. "Lonely?" she asked.

"I'm fine," he replied, trying to tell the woman she was dismissed.

"I can show you a good time...?"

"I'm married." Even when he said it didn't sound right. Like he didn't have the right to say those words.

"So? She's probably cheating on you anyways. Besides, you look like you could use some...companionship," the girl replied with a smile. Getting sick of the ginger haired girl, he dug into his vest and tossed a few coins onto the table.

"Take them. Get out of my sight," he ordered. Staring down in shock at the gold, the woman quickly grabbed them and hid them away in her dress.

"Four hundred francs, monsieur?" she questioned after all the coins were gathered.

"Do you want more?" Erik demanded. The earlier opinion the girl had said was still fresh in his mind and he needed to be alone.

"...More?" she asked, her lips forming a perfect 'o' as she stared at him in shock. Slowly, a sly smile spread across her red lips as she shook her head softly. "_Merci_, monsieur, but this is plenty enough."

"Then leave," he said before turning back to his drink. Giving him a small curtsy, she quickly left his sight and again Erik was left to himself. Musing his thoughts between sips of his beverage, he soon gave up after several hours after realizing that he was accomplishing nothing. Dropping a few more small coins onto the table to pay for his drinks, he quickly stood and left the now little populated room.

Watching him as Erik left was the girl who had spoken to him earlier. It was in silence that she watched his departure as another man stood beside her. "So you're telling me he gave you four hundred francs just to leave him alone?"

"And he has more. More than Anthony has ever offered, that's for certain," the woman added with disgust as she rolled one of the coins in her bare hand. "Have you met his younger sister yet? Little thing is drop-dead gorgeous and she can't even land a husband."

"Saw her yesterday. Spewing some shit about finding Anthony. Thought she was a whore at first."

"She seems to like wearing certain types of dresses that would lead one to believing that..." the woman commented, staring blankly at the door leading outside.

"So what do you want to do Ange?"

"I want that money. He probably has enough to set us for life on his person alone."

"Then what are we waiting around for then, pet?" With a bright grin plastered on his face the man led Ange out of the pub and followed after the cloaked man a safe enough distance not to be spotted. Him and Ange pretended to have a conversation, acting like any normal couple would, but was stopped as the man walking ahead of him quickened his pace. Doing so as well, he held tightly onto Ange as they turned the many confusing twists and turns of Paris' streets.

"Jonathan!" Ange exclaimed. "What's going on?!"

"He's onto us," Jonathan replied happily. "Let's just keep it up awhile longer; see what he does and all that."

"I'm not so sure about this anymore," she replied, slight fear in her voice as the dark haired man turned into a street that she personally knew was a complete dead end. What was this mystery man playing?

"It'll be fine," he replied, stopping them both as he reaching into his coat and took out a gun. "Hold this. Fire _only_ if he tries to attack you," Jonathan ordered as he took out a dagger for himself. Swallowing her nervousness, Ange nodded and followed after her partner into the alley.

"You!" Jonathan shouted as they walked into the alleyway. Instantly, the man before them stopped, though he still was turned away from them. "Drop any weapons and give us all your money!" But still, no reply came from the strange man.

Opening her mouth to add on to Jonathan's threat, she instead screamed in terror as the man suddenly turned on them and was beside her in an instant. Firing off her gun, she panted heavily as she held onto the metal with trembling hands. "Ange, you fucking idiot!" Jonathan shouted. Looking at the man beside her, she saw that the strange man had disappeared and Jonathan was now gripping at a bloody wound.

"Oh my god, John, what happened!?" she screamed, dropping the gun onto the cobblestones.

"What the hell does it look like, you shot me!" he shouted back, falling onto his knees as he continued to weakly clutch at his wound. Groaning in pain, Jonathan fell to his knees entirely as Ange fell as well, unable to stand any longer from pure terror.

"W-Where'd he g-g-go?" she stuttered. A silence passed as a freezing breeze passed through the alley. It was a bad idea to go after the man, Ange knew that now, but how in the hell was she supposed to escape from this growing nightmare. "I don't see him..."

Suddenly, she felt an incredible pain explode throughout her whole body and a sickening feeling pass through her. She was unable to hold back the scream. It was so painful, like her entire soul was being ripped apart by force. "That's because I'm behind you," a deep voice whispered in her ear. Letting out a gasp as she felt something slide out of her body, she looked down to see a growing stain of dark red spreading across her dress. Eyes rolling into the back of her head, she collapsed onto the ground, dying.

As Erik stared down at her, he deemed the damage enough and walked over to the man who was still very much living. Slightly saddened that he had no proper noose with him, he took the man's jacket off and cut it up to small strips. Making quickly work of the strips, he soon had a small noose fastened and placed it around the man's neck. Grabbing the end of the cloth, he tightened it as much as he was able to around the man's neck until he could feel him fighting for breath. Shaking violently, Erik kept the grip tight until the man fell still. Breathing a sigh of relief, Erik finally removed the noose and picked up the man's body. Feeling slightly creative in this kill, he propped the man up against the wall and positioned him so that he appeared leaning against the wall.

"Now, for the who--" he was stopped as an incredible pain shot through his body. Grasping at the source, he found that a dagger was planted deep into his side and the girl he had thought he was already rid up stared up at him as blood ran down her lips. Staring down at her, he took hold of the knife's handle, pulled the blade out of his own flesh, and turned on the girl. Already weak from the past attack, the girl below him wasn't even able to muster a scream of pain and terror as he planted the knife deep in her breast. Blue eyes fluttering, her dulling orbs soon rolled into the back of her head as her head slumped back.

Holding his wound, he shook the pain away as he continued working on his 'statue'. Bending down to her dead form, he ripped apart her clothes until she lay before him completely naked. Having no affect on him, he quickly picked her up and propped her up on her knees before the other dead man. Her lifeless mouth pressed against the other man's clothed cock as she stared at nothing. "Perfect," Erik muttered, picking up his knife and replacing it in it's holster.

Limping his way out of the alleyway, he was already panting from the loss of blood but continued to fight off the growing darkness. Shaking off the cold feeling growing inside him, he walked to the side of the street and, after making sure that no one was nearby, opened up his shirt. Gazing down at the wound, he sighed and closed up his shirt again. It wasn't deep, he was thankful for that, but he was still losing blood. Not only with this current problem, he knew that he wouldn't be safe going back to his home where Christine probably had already waken and frantically searching for him. As he continued to walk through the empty streets, he noticed that the opera house stood tall before him. Deciding that it would be best, he took a quick side root and was soon back in his old home.

The room that held his piano was hardly touched at all from when he last saw it, and he saw with great happiness that everything was still in its place that he had earlier left it. Managing to walk into his old bedroom, he collapsed onto the plush beddings and removed the red stained shirt. Biting back his groans of pain, he quickly managed to clean out the wound and bandage it up. Thankful that he wouldn't need any stitches for the wound, he collasped back onto the bed and closed his eyes.

It wasn't long until he fell into a fitful sleep haunted with Christine's unheard worries.

* * *

E: How did everyone enjoy the chapter?!

C: Another kill?

E: Yes, though not as violent as the last one. -sigh- So sad. I do like my idea of what Erik did with the bodies, though. I had lots of fun with that! -smiles-

C: We are sorry that it took so long to update this chapter.

E: _Oui_! Erik's been really busy lately. He just speed-memorized the rest of his monologue for my play auditions and I have three projects that are due in a week's time. Also, I've been going through a lot of stupid-ass crap. But that's another story for another day...

C: As always, please review to the chapter and tune in for the next chapter. Goodbye everyone.


	19. Discoveries

**__**

Note:

I am currently unable to use microsoft word or word processor at home so there might and definately will be many, MANY typos. I apologize but the only time I can do corrections is when I'm at school and I have to be careful then because they are always being monitered. So please forgive any mistakes and try to overlook them and please don't tell me them because I know that they're there. Thank you -Erik

C: Hello and welcome to Chapter Ninteen!

E: We're almost at 20 chapters people!

C: And we reached our 100 review goal.

E: So Christine and I plan to par-tay! You all can join...if you can find us that is! -giggle-

C: Okay now shouldn't we go on with the chapter?

E: Ah, yes! Be good little loyal readers and read on for this chapter. We'll see everyone at the ending author's notes.

* * *

Roses of Life

* * *

Things weren't right. Where was the warmth he was use to waking up beside? Not to mention that whatever lay under him didn't feel right either. The air wasn't nearly as fresh as he had grown accustomed to, almost feeling like it had stilled and gone dead. So, despite sleep trying to keep it's intoxicating hold on him, Erik managed to open his eyes up and realized that he was in old home under the opera house. Trying to remember why and how he had gotten where he was, he stood up and let out a painful gasp as he grasped at his side. After the shock was over, he looked down as he pulled his hand away and saw red blood stained onto it and spreading across his shirt. "Damn it," he muttered faintly as he recalled the events that had happened the night before.

He killed again. It wasn't the statement itself that bothered him into obvilion and back again, it was the possiblity of Christine finding out. Erik didn't know what he would do if his wife was to learn of his comings and goings, much less what he did this particular time. And then there was the last one...God what if she found about about that as well? The papers would no doubt be on the story in less than a heartbeat, but the real question would be if he could still keep her in the shadows of ignorance. The last paper he managed to burn when Sorelli brought it over; and, as far as Erik knew, Christine had no interest in reading the paper.

Again, the pain shot through his body like a rocket and distruppted his thoughts as he grabbed desperately at his wound. "Fuck..." he muttered, leaning over into the pillows as he waited for the pain to pass. "Have to do something..." Lifting himself up, he took a deep breath and managed to stand on his own two feet and take a few steps forward. "Sorelli'll know what to do," he assured himself as he made his way through the familiar tunnels and passageways that he had lived in his whole life.

With constant self-reassurance as he limped his way through the stony underground, Erik finally made his way to the world above and he quietly stood in the raftors, staring down at the people swarming the ground below. "I do apologize, darling, but I must be on my way!" one man said rather loudly. Glaring down onto the crowd, he managed to pick out a pompous looking man of about thirty who was smiling charmingly as a ballerina followed after him. Another Vicomte. But this one seemed more...refined? Erik wasn't to sure about the man, but was even more confused why this man caught his attention when he needed to find the ballet mistress before he passed out over the railing from lack of blood.

Making his way through the many different catwalks, he managed to find the woman he sought after and waited patiently for the people surrounding her to disappear. "Sorelli!" he barked quietly when she was finally alone.

"Christine is very worried about you, Erik," the woman said, not taken by surprise one bit as she turned around and looked up into the shadows where Erik stood.

"Save me the lecture for later, I need your help," he hissed.

Sighing, Sorelli waved her hand and began walking away from the stage, moving deeper into the opera house. Following closely behind, Erik entered the woman's room with graditude as she closed and locked the door behind him. "What happened this time?"

"Little bich stabbed me with my own knife," he spat, taking of his shirt to show the wound to the older woman. "Damn little whore knows how to hang on, I'll give her that."

"I had a feeling you were behind that murder. Nice pose you gave them," Sorelli commented as she walked over to a small chest and opened it up. Taking out bandages, a salve, and a cloth she began to place them onto a table as Erik collapsed onto a nearby chair.

"So it was in the papers, I'm assuming?" Erik questioned as he watched Sorelli dunk the cloth in her basin of water and walk over to him as she held it.

"Headline," she stated as she began to wipe the blood away. "You know Christine's going to find out sooner or later."

"No she's not," he replied, clentching his jaw tightly from the stinging feeling he was getting from the rough fabric. "I'll make sure of that."

"That's what you said last time, Erik," Sorelli pointed out as she took the salve and rubbed it into the raw wound.

"Be gentle, woman!" he snapped angrily.

"You brought this upon yourself. Christine's worried sick about you, you know. She's been crying all morning and saying that it's all her fault that you left."

"She's use to me leaving at odd times," Erik retorted as he could feel Sorelli begin to wrap the clean bandages around his waist, covering the wound.

"Well not this time, apparently. It's probably just the hormones from the baby, but she was almost spotted by someone here when she came out looking for you. Meg and I had to practically drag her back to the house and calm her down. Meg's still with her," she explained as she went up to her wardrobe and took out a clean white shirt and held it out to him. When he gave her a questioning look, she smiled slightly. "I figured this would happen after I read the paper, so I went to the costume room and grabbed a shirt for you."

Not bothering to thank the older woman, he yanked the shirt out of her hand and pulled it over his head, taking care not to brush against his wound too roughly as he placed it over his sculpted torso. "Come along then," Sorelli whispered. "Let's go and see your distraught wife."

Leading the way, Sorelli walked out of her room and allowed Erik to help her up into the catwalk before they ventured further and finally arrived back in Erik's old home. As they continued walking, they retraced their old footsteps and into the secret passage that led to the beautiful area where Erik's new home rested beautifully in the field next to the clear lake. Looking out onto his new home, Erik felt an immense sadness as he could see Christine walking amoungst the garden, clearly upset. Not bothering to look at the woman who led him back, he walked passed her and moved through the somewhat large space between the entrance and where his beloved stood.

"Christine!" he called out as he stopped in front of the wooden gate. Watching her lift her head up at his voice, he nearly felt his heart rip apart as her face lit up instantly upon seeing him. There was no possible way just from seeing his face that she could become so happy and relieved...could there?

"Oh Erik, thank God!" she exclaimed, running over to him and throwing herself into his waiting arms. Holding her closely, Erik kissed the top of her head as he could feel her begin to cry. "Thank God you're okay," she whimpered, clinging tightly onto him as he still held her.

"Of course I'm okay," he whispered, running his fingers through her chocolate curls as she lifted her head up and kissed his face; her lips making contact with whatever portion of him that it could reach. "I'd never leave you alone."

"I know, I know," she assured him. "I was just so worried about you. God, you had no idea how scared I was," she said as Sorelli walked up to the two of them.

"It's okay now, Christine. I'm home and safe and unharmed. Come along now, it's cold outside," he said, trying to smooth away her worries as he walked with her and Sorelli back into the warm building. Guiding Christine into the living room, Erik gently sat her down on one of the chairs before he began building up the fire that had long ago gone out. Still able to hear Christine stiffled sobbing, he turned away from his work and embraced his love, holding her close to him as he allowed her to cry. What kind of man was he to allow this to happen to the one thing he was trying to protect?

"Meg and I will be on our way then, seeing as we've found you," Sorelli said faintly. Erik looked up to her and mouthed 'wait' before turning back to his wife.

"I'll just be a minute Christine," he whispered. "I need to talk to Sorelli about something." When Christine nodded her head in understanding, Erik carefully let go of her and stood up, moving across and out of the room with the ballet mistress in a heartbeat. "What's going on at my opera house? Who was that fool I saw earlier?" he demanded from her as soon as the door was closed behind them.

"The fool you saw was Anthony Lafayette, Monsiuer Lafayette's son. He was most likely leaving when you saw him. I caught him with one of my girls and ordered him out of the opera house. Hard to believe he's the spawn on that man," Sorelli hissed, crossing her arms as she leaned against the wall. "The managers followed your orders from the last letter, but it seems that they've been coming and going more recently than normal. The Vicomte has hardly shown his face at all these past two days, and Carlotta seems...at peace."

"So? So long as she isn't harping at every thing that will listen to her shrieks then there is nothing to worry about. The news of the Vicomte is good, as well as that of the managers. They're learning their place, and that place is staying the hell away from my opera house," Erik said simply as he stared at Madame Giry. "Nothing is wrong; all is well. Christine is safe, I'm safe, the opera house is finally going back to the way it use to be before those idiots took over, and you and your daughter are in no way in danger. If anything, now is a time to celebrate."

"I wouldn't want to do that just yet. This whole thing doesn't exactly sit right with me. I'm going to keep watching things, but I do hope you'll be more careful from now on when attending to your...hobby."

"Naturally, madame," he muttered. Curtsying towards him, Erik tilted his head in respect before watching the woman leave the hallway in search of her daughter then eventually make their way back to their own home. "Christine..." he called out softly as he reentered the room. Seeing her still sitting where he had left her, Erik approached her as she turned to face him. Almost like a terrified child seeking the refuge of their parents arms, Christine lifted her arms up slightly as a sign that she wanted him close. Bending down her her, he allowed her thin arms to hold onto him and keep him close to her.

"Don't ever do that again to me," she lectured quietly, resting her head atop his.

"I won't," he promised, lifting his head up to gently kiss her. When he pulled away, Christine smiled down at him as her hand reached up to rest against the right side of his face.

"I love you Erik," she whispered before kissing him back. Helping her stand up, Christine broke away the short kiss as he helped her into their bedroom.

"You need to rest," he advised, leading her towards the empty bed. "You're probably exhausted. Remember that you're taking care of two now."

"I know Erik," Christine teased in return as he stayed close to him. "But I'm not tired."

"Then what are you?" Erik questioned.

"I think you know..." Giving him a somewhat sly smile, she rested her hands against his chest as her brown eyes stared up into his. Erik had to swallow the growing panic inside him. He couldn't let Christine see the bandage, God only knew how she would react to it.

"I think that you should rest," he replied, placing his hands on her waist to try and push her back. "You must be--" his sentence was cut short as Christine's mouth attacked his in a heated kiss. he knew he shouldn't be allowing her to do anything, but god damn him she could be so tempting. Unable to controll his reaction he could hear Christine's small giggles of delight as she too could feel his desire grow.

"Come now monsieur," she whispered in his ear as her hands played with the hem of his shirt. Slowly, her fingers gathered up the linen shirt to be removed from his body as she continued to playfully smile up at him.

"Christine, don't," he warned, placing his hands over hers.

"Why not?" she inquired, lifting the bottom portion of his shirt up. Glancing down, her smile disappeared as she realized why. "Erik...?"

"Damn it all to hell," he muttered under his breath as Christine let go of his shirt and stared up at him, clearly confused.

"What happened?" she asked, clearly worried about her new discovery as she slightly backed away from him. "Erik, where did you go last night?"

"Just for a walk, Christine, I swear--"

"A walk doesn't hurt you!" she exclaimed. "How did you get that? Tell me the truth Erik!"

Erik stared down at her, gazing into her glistening eyes as tears threatened to make their escape. She was so hurt, so worried about him that he knew it would be next to impossible to lie to her. "Sorelli told me about the murder," Christine admitted, moving completely away from him as she sat down on the edge of the bed. "And I know about the other one from earlier too." Looking up to him, tears were falling soundlessly down her beautiful face as she tried to hold her sobs back. "Where did you get that wound?" she demanded.

"A person," he answered honestly as he stayed exactly where she had left him.

"Damn it, Erik, don't avoid my questions!" she shouted. "How did you get that wound?!"

He paused, turning away from her face as he found himself unable to watch her cry any longer. "Someone stabbed me, that's it. I'm fine though, it's just a scratch."

"Erik..." she whispered. "Please...Please tell me that you didn't...those people..." Nothing more than a silence passed between them as Christine prayed for his denial to the question. "Erik...?"

"I have to go," he muttered. "Those fools are probably ruining the opera house. I must check on things..."

"Don't ignore me Erik!" she shouted, standing up and running over to him as she grabbed his arm and held him back. "Don't you dare ignore me! Answer me Erik: did you kill those people!?" Another silence from his part. "Damn it, Erik, I'm not playing games!"

"Go to sleep," he ordered, "you need to rest. If you over-exurt yourself you'll have a miscarriage--"

"To hell with that!" she shouted. "Just answer me! Did you or did you not kill those people!?" Shrugging her grip off of him, he refused to look at her as he left the room and closed the door tightly behind him. Christine stared at the wooden entrance, not believing what had just happened. It couldn't be possible, she was so sure of herself that he hadn't done anything. It wasn't possible for Erik to thoughtlessly kill...was it?

Clentching her hands around her stomach, she let her sorrow run free as she fell to the floor, bent over from pure misery. "Come back..." she pleaded. "Erik, come back..."

* * *

"Mademoiselle Michelet!" a voice called out in the darkness. "Mademoiselle, it's time for you to wake!" the voice said again as Felicity could feel her shoulder being shaken. "Your parents are to arrive any moment and you must prepare yourself!"

"Fine," she mumbled as she managed to roll her body over and sit up on the edge of the bed. Rubbing her eyes, she wondered why she was unable to hear the normal chatter of the other ballet girls that she lived with. Also, the more she mulled over what the bodiless voice had told her, the more confused she grew as to why her parents would be visiting her at the Opera Populaire.

Opening her eyes, she was instead greeted by a very peculiar sight. Before her stood a maid who was carrying a small bowl of water and a cloth and in the background a familiar raven-haired woman was rumaging through a closet. "Aida...?"

"Good morning, I suppose," the older woman replied as she took out a frilly purple dress and frowned at it. "Get on up and let Béatrice fix you up. Your mother and father are sure to arrive soon to discuss the terms with Anthony and you need to at the very least look good enough to be seen in my presence."

"W-What terms?" Felicity asked sleepily as she could feel herself being forced up from the bed and the nightgown she wore being taken off her body.

"For the--"

"Shush, Béatrice," Aida snapped as she took out a different gown and tossed it over her arm. "Brother doesn't want anyone spoiling."

"Of course, mademoiselle, so sorry," the maid said with a curtsy before taking the dress and laying it over the bed as she dragged Felicity to a full length mirror.

"Goodness, put a corset on her before she embarrasses anyone further," Aida said in disgust as she pointed over to her wardrobe once again. Nodding in understanding, the maid left and returned shortly after with the object Aida requested and began lacing it onto Felicity's waist. "That should do it," she praised before handing Béatrice the gown that was placed aside earlier. Giving another nod, the woman pulled the dress over the brunette's head and placed it onto her body. "Acceptable, I guess," Aida muttered after the dress was correctly worn on Felicity's body.

Now steering her towards a lavishly decorated vanity, Felicity was seated before it and the maid began to wet the cloth she was carrying earlier and started scrubbing her face clean. "Why are my parents coming over? I haven't done anything _wrong_."

"LIke I know? Anthony said something about a business meeting," Aida replied disinterestingly, eying Felicity's face before nodding towards Béatrice. Instantly, the maid took a brush and began running it through Felicity's tangled hair. Unable to retort in any way, Felicity sat in silence as Béatrice continued working on her appearance until Aida looked over her once again. "It'll do," she answered. Curtsying, Béatrice immediately left the room and left the two women alone.

Madame Michelet stepped out of the carraige and looked up at the beautiful house with apprehension. "What's this dinner all about?" she inquired toward her husband. Patting his wife's hand, Monsieur Michelet looked up at the same house with a look of hope.

"It's an engament between Monsieur Lafayette and I. We are planning to discuss the possible marriage of our Felicity to his son, Anthony."

"Felicity?" the woman said with slight disbelief. "What would such a high statused man such as himself want with our daughter?" About to answer her, Monsieur Michelet instead fell silent as he spotted Anthony walking up to the both of them with a bright grin. "You're not Monsieur Lafayette," Madame Michelet noted.

"No, madame, my father was not able to attend his meeting and my mother is away visiting family," Anthony explained with some feigned sadness. "_Bonjour_ madame. Might I say that you look absolutely ravishing this day," he flattered as he took her hand and respectively kissed the knuckles. "I'm Anthony, Marcel Lafayette's son," he introduced himself quickly before shaking the other man's hand. "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation, madame. I just want you to know that I wish to further connect our families together as well as further solidify both of our aristocratic positions through the possible marriage of your daughter and I," Anthony explained politely as he led the couple into the foyer of his house and further into the parlor. "After all, did your family not have a successful marriage arranged with your sister's son and a rather important family from London?"

"Yes, you're quite right," Madame Michelet said as they entered the parlor just as Aida and Felicity stepped inside from a different set of doors. "But are you sure you want her? She can be quite the shrew when she sets her mind to it," she said, eying her daughter as Felicity curtsied towards both her parents before sitting down beside Aida. Anthony glanced over to Felicity, musing some thoughts in his mind before returning to face the girl's mother.

"Yes, madame. She's exactly what I viewed when I think of my future wife. True, she will be difficult to tame at first but she will soon grow accumstomed to me," he said with a charming smile. Felicity looked at him, confused, before turning to face her mother.

"Mother, what is Monsieur Lafayette talking about?" she asked politely.

"He is speaking of marriage, dear. It would be beneficial for you two to wed," she explained plainly as she avoided eye contact with her daughter.

"B-B-But..." Felicity stammered, a deep blush growing on her face from learning the news. Looking over to Anthony, she felt like she was going to faint when he looked back at her and gave her a sly smile. "But i don't want to marry him!" she exclaimed.

"Why not? Do I not appeal to you, mademoiselle?" Anthony innocently asked as his smile instantly disappeared.

"I-It's not t-t-that. I j-just hardly k-know you, so how c-c-can I l-love you?"

"Oh, be quiet and stop this ridiculious chatter! One would think you had no manners!" Madame Michelet scowled at Felicity, causing the girl to instantly quiet. "I apologize for my daughter. We accept your proposal."

"But I don't!" Felciity exclaimed, ignoring her mother's earlier warning and the glares she was currently sending her way. "I've never even been properly introduced to him--"

"My name is Anthony Lafayette, mademoiselle," he interjected.

"_I don't care_!" she snapped. "I refuse to marry him and if you make me I'll...I'll..." Her father sighed in exhaustion, clearly use to these types of outbursts.

"You'll do nothing Felicity. You'll be happy and well looked after if you marry Monsieur Lafayette. Now run off with Mademoiselle Aida while we discuss arrangements," he ordered before turning his back on her to face Anthony.

"What is your brother like?" Felicity asked Aida, too low for anyone else to hear as they both stood. The older woman rolled her eyes.

"He's conceited and charming and a womanizer," she said. "Good luck."

Watching the two women leave, Anthony strode over to a desk after the doors were closed and took out a marriage linense and a pen and placed them both down onto the polished wood. "All I merely ask from you is your daughter's hand in marriage and a dowry of fifteen thousand francs."

"Agreed," Monsieur Michelet said, taking the men and signing his name on the dotted line near the bottom of the paper. Taking the pen, Anthony signed his name as well before putting the paper away. "You'll recieve the money before the week is out."

"It was a pleasure, good monsieur," Anthony said happily. "And I assure you, your daughter will never know a better life." With a warm smile as both parents wished him luck, he walked them back to their carriage and watched as it left. Things were going to start changing very quickly...

* * *

E: For those of you wondering about how much money I've been talking about lately, I'll tell you cause I love you all so much.

'I'm not a forty franc whore' -Aida. That's $10

'Four hundred francs, monsieur?' -Ange. That's $100

'...a dowry of fifteen thousand francs.' -Anthony. That's...-dun dun duun- $3750

C: That's a lot for a simple dowry.

E: It'll take a lot to get rid of Felicity though. She's a thorn in everyone's side. -laughs-

C: So yes, Felicity is about to be married off to Marcel's son: Anthony. Anyone expect this? Not counting when we mentioned it in the last chapter.

E: I bet no one did! Mwuhaha!

C: And Erik has news.

E: Yes! Erik made it into his play!

C: What are you?

E: An attendant in the marriage...

C: ...That isn't a major part.

E: I got in didn't I? Besides, I'm also the Amazon Queen's understudy and I still have my beloved stories so Erik is content.

C: Well good for you then. We'll see everyone next chapter, though.

E: Make sure to review and read the next exciting installment!


	20. Plans

C: Hello. How has everyone been lately?

E: Erik has been stressed!

C: I didn't ask Erik, did I?

E: Well Erik will tell everyone of his tragic story. First, his school loaded him down with project after project after useless project that we had to do within weeks! Then, as he was in the middle of writing, he encountered his greatest foe!

C: Raoul?

E: Of course editors wouldn't understand...

C: -glares at you- Just because _you're_ in a mad mood doesn't mean that you have to take it out on me.

E: -ignores as always- Anyways, it is writer's block. Erik had it with his Alice story and Erik had to basically drag both himself and the story through the mud just to get it done. So, in hopes that I don't have to do the same with this one, Erik will most likely keep everything simple until his mind is back in working order.

C: -sighs- Seeing as I'm probably not going to get an apology-

E: No because Christine should know that Erik loves her very much so he does not need to say that he is sorry.

C: _Anywho_! Go on ahead and start reading. We'll see everyone at the ending author's notes.

* * *

Roses of Life

* * *

As Felicity stared at herself in the three-sided mirror, watching Béatrice lace up the back of her flowing gown, she thoughts of all the things that led up to the moment she found herself in.

Six weeks. Six whole entire weeks Felicity had spent away from the Opera House, a place she only now realized that she considered a home. Forty-two days filled with isolation. Ever since her discovery that she was to marry the handsome and very wealthy Anthony Lafayette, Felicity was suddenly taken in by her parents and lived in her old home that she had long ago been forced out of for the six weeks after the proposal. Being in her home was strange, being surrounded constantly by servants waiting for her simplest and most outrageous whims she could think of. Naturally, it was very different from her life as a dancer before, and she would, at times, find herself locking her bedroom door and performing dances she had learned from opera in front of her looking glass.

But time still went on, no matter how much she begged for it back, and soon the wedding day was upon her. In the time since she went back with her parents, she had yet to talk to much less see Anthony. His sister, Aida, stopped by every once in awhile to deliver a letter from her brother to the waiting bride. The letters were hardly the romantic words Felicity would read about women receiving in her romance novels that she hid from her parents, but they were better than absolutely nothing.

"Mademoiselle?" Béatrice asked after a final tug on the laces. Brushing back her brown hair, Felicity turned her head slightly to look at the small maid and managed a forced smile.

"I'm fine," she assured before turning back to look at her reflection. Staring at the dress, she found herself slightly depressed over the fast approaching ceremony. When she imagined her wedding day, she imagined it being with someone she was madly in love with and how the whole day would feel like a dizzying dream. But reality hit, and it seemed more like a nerve-wrecking nightmare. "Just...nervous."

"Aren't they all? I certainly was the day me and Howard got married," Béatrice said happily. "He was born in England and moved here with his poor widowed father when he was only a babe. Saddest little thing you ever saw, always hiding in the back of the crowd," she said, laughing quietly to herself as she began straightening out the train. "But rest assured Monsieur Lafayette is a good man. You will be treated well in this house."

"That's good to know," she whispered. Smiling, Béatrice nodded happily before standing up and leading Felicity away from the stand and over to a chair where she could work on her. Staring into the reflective glass, the young bride tried to reassure herself that Anthony was indeed a good man. She would live the easy life and be cared for. Sure, there was a possibility of receiving no love in this marriage whatsoever, but it couldn't hurt her to try and change that...

Right?

* * *

"Anthony, you're going to be late for your own wedding," an aged voice warned the man as he stood silently in the room. He laughed, pushing aside waves of black hair to properly look at the man before him. He cursed himself for giving his hair ribbon to the horrid ballet girl he had stayed the night with earlier when he had stopped by the opera house once again.

"It doesn't start till I arrive, Father. I will be fine," he assured, lifting himself away from the wall he was leaning on. Staring at Marcel as he hunched over a large desk, he sighed and walked up to the old man and looked down at what he was looking at.

Pictures. So many pictures littered the desk along with reports, accounts, and God only knew what else. "What's all this for?" he asked.

"I've been hunting this god-damned Phantom for nearly three months and have yet to turn up a single god-damned clue as to where to find him," Marcel spat before grabbing up some pictures and, after briefly looking at them, tossed them back on the table. "It has never taken me this long to solve a case before, Anthony!" he exclaimed. Nodding his head in agreement, Anthony looked down at the pictures and studied them.

Everything was nicely separated into different locations on the man's desk. The first, near the far left, was every account and witness telling Marcel could scrounge up from the Opera House's workers about the Phantom of the Opera, along with as many newspaper clippings to go with in. In the middle was a murder scene Anthony remembered reading about a few months ago. It was the one with the decapitated man and his father took as many pictures as he had film. And lastly, near the far right, was the most recent murder performed in the alleyway. Anthony smirked, this man truly was elusive.

"It's not making any sense! At first I thought that the managers were hiding some vital piece of information, but wouldn't say anything, and I threatened them to leave on several accounts, even going as far as blackmailing them, but nothing!" Anthony looked down at three different pictures that his father had thrown back on the desk earlier. One was of a middle-aged woman that looked very strict. In the corner of the picture, his father had written some notes:

_Madame Sorelli Giry. Possibly assistant to Phantom. Won't talk and purposefully avoids my questions. Perhaps call her in for questioning?_

Then the next picture, one of that of a strange man whom Anthony had neither seen nor heard of before:

_Monsieur Sven. Last name unknown. Mysteriously showed up at Opera House with Mademoiselle Daaé, and was claimed as the man who saved her from the Phantom and was now her fiancée. Suspected as Phantom himself._

And finally, one of a young woman. Anthony couldn't help but gaze at the picture longer than others. The woman had curly brown hair that cascaded around her face and her brown eyes seemed almost like they could suck you in. Managing to tear his gaze away from the picture, he quickly looked down at the notes his father added:

_Mademoiselle Christine Daaé. Orphaned at young age and disappeared with Phantom sometime between early and mid-January. Was missing till dress-rehearsal for strange new opera. Claimed she was now engaged and that she lived out far in the country-side and didn't wish to be disturbed. Looked into it and found that there is no house owned under her or her 'fiancée's' name. Perhaps confront her at next appearance?_

"Christine..." Anthony whispered, trying the name. He liked it; soft, sweet, nothing at all like the person he was being forced to marry. True, it was him who thought of the marriage, but it didn't make it any more pleasant. "Father, we must get going," Anthony announced before slipping the picture and notes in his vest pocket and turning to his father. "I mustn't keep my bride waiting at the altar."

* * *

"What is taking him so long?" Aida demanded quietly as she sat beside her mother in the front row of the pews. Already the priest had arrived and the bride was ready, but the groom was anything but here.

"Patience, darling, you're brother will arrive soon," Madeleine said, reaching out to hold her daughter's hand in hers. Rolling her eyes, Aida slipped her hand out of the elder woman's grasp and turned to look back at a side door. Seeing it opened, she felt slightly angered that it was indeed her missing brother that appeared from the opening. Gathering up the skirts of her dress, she stood up and quickly walked over to him.

"Where the hell have you been? I swear to God, if you were with some painted lady I'll kill you," she hissed. Anthony simply smiled at her in return as she attempted to put his coat on.

"Hello to you too, sister dear. Might I say that you are looking quietly lovely in that dress-"

"I don't want to hear a word from you unless the priest tells you to say something," she snapped, reaching out and straightening the coat. "I demand nothing less than perfection, and that includes you being _on time_!" When she was done with helping him, she grabbed his arm and walked him down the side aisle. "Now, Felicity will be here any minute. You get up at the altar and pretend you've been waiting there for hours or, God help me, you will wish that you actually had."

With one final push in the direction she spoke of, Aida sent a quick warning glare before going back to her seat and sitting beside her mother. Smiling pleasantly as her father arrived as well, she watched silently as the organist began playing.

First to come through the church doors was the Felicity's younger sister and niece. The small little girls, both under ten years old, happily threw the flowers about until they reached the end of the aisle and ran over to their waiting parents. Aida's eyes followed them, and noticed something when they stopped. Though she wished to study the thing longer, Felicity soon entered and she was forced to look back and stand along with the other family in the room.

Aida had to admit, she did not expect Felicity to look so...so pretty! The older woman had hardly spoken to the girl in the time that she was staying with her parents, so she hadn't noticed the changes. Then again, she knew the Béatrice was pretty handy with a brush and a little makeup.

The aisle walk was short and when she arrived on her father's arm to Anthony; she took Anthony's arm, kissed her father, then turned to face the priest along with Aida's brother. When everyone sat down, Aida took her time to study her sister-in-law instead of listening to the boring vows.

In the short time that she had been away from the opera house, Felicity's brown hair seemed to have grown much longer and didn't appear nearly as thin and dull as it once was. Her face, though covered by the veil, seemed to have changed too. Her skin appeared softer and her large, brown eyes looked so innocent. God, Aida was just simply blown away. She was almost pretty enough to be more appealing than her!

"I do," her soft, quiet voice rang out. Aida was feeling dizzy; had she somehow fallen down the rabbit hole and into some other universe?

As her brother lifted up the veil to claim his kiss, Aida closed her eyes softly and thought of all the wonderful things in the world: Jewels, pearls, tapestries, silk dresses.

"Aida?" her brother's voice inquired. Opening her eyes, she stared up at her brother as he smiled charmingly. "Come along, Felicity wishes us to meet her family." Nodding her head, Aida sat up and walked with her brother to the small crowd gathering around the blushing bride.

Watching near the back, she took notes on the family. The two younger girls chirped happily with Felicity as they took her hands and began jumping up and down from excitement. Her parents stood to the side, looking upon her with approval as a strange man stood beside them. "Aida, this is Madame and Monsieur Michelet," he introduced. Aida, snapping back to reality, smiled warmly up at the elder parents and performed a graceful curtsy.

"It's a pleasure to meet you both," she said charmingly, her ruby lips smiling softly as her raven hair fell beautifully around her face. _That's right_, she thought, glancing at Felicity. _Even when all the attention should be on you, it'll always be on me._

"And this is Henri Duval," Anthony introduced politely; leading his younger sister to the tall man she had noticed earlier. "Monsieur Duval, my younger sister Aida Lafayette," he said. Smiling brightly, Aida curtsied gracefully and allowed the man to take her hand and kiss her knuckles.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, mademoiselle," he whispered.

"Please," she interjected, "call me Aida." Still smiling, she reluctantly left the man as her mother called her away to join them in the parlor. Though she was glad to see that her brother was finally staying out of her own love life, Aida was slightly annoyed that his wedding was interfering with her current plans. Entering the parlor, her green eyes gazed across the room at Henri and smiled. He would be hers yet.

* * *

"What do you mean, you're leaving?" Felicity demanded after the short and very small celebration of her wedding was over.

"I have business to attend to out of the city and I most certainly can't bring you along darling," he explained gently as his personal butler carried the last of his bags out of his bedroom. Turning to face her, he carefully took her hands and brought her closer to him so he was embracing her. "I'll only be gone a few months, my love. I'll be sure to write to you every day. Now please just behave and I'll be back before you know it," Anthony muttered, kissing her forehead before letting her go and striding out of the room.

Anthony, though he was greatly looking forward to his wedding night when he would be able to break his little virgin bride in, did indeed have pressing matters to attend to. Ever since he had seen the picture his father had kept of Christine, he was entranced by her. Sure, his father was talented with finding missing persons, but Anthony had a few tricks of his own. And may he be damned if he can't find this girl himself and free her from what surely must be a prison.

* * *

It was still dark. Or, at least it thought it was. Erik hadn't been outside his old home in weeks, years for all he knew. As far as news about his wife, he wasn't sure what was going on. It was possible the baby was born in the time he had been underground. Hell, it was possible for her to have gathered all her things and get away from him as fast as she possibly could.

Ever since their argument six weeks ago, Erik took refuge deep underground in the familiar catacombs, where he instantly began surrounding himself once again in his music. In the time he had spent away, he had created enough music that arose from his different passions that he was feeling to create an entire brand new opera. True, most of them were about his fears and rages, but it was still music nonetheless. His calloused fingers would glide over the ivories as he tried to drown out his thoughts, for fear of allowing them to stray away back to his wife.

"Christine..." he whispered as he sat before his piano. During his time of solitude, Erik would occasionally sneak above to the shadowed catwalks and darkened corners and spy upon the life within the opera house. Gazing below him, he watched as the people whom he had grown to recognize and realized why Sorelli was uneasy about the comings and goings in the Opera Populaire.

Not only had Raoul not shown up once in the entire time Erik studied the place, he hadn't even heard the man's name being mentioned. Marcel had practically disappeared from the place as well, and both managers either spent the day in their office or were out on the town. Carlotta seemed content for once in her life, and the annoying girl Felicity seemed to have disappeared as well. Unfortunately, the strange man Erik had seen earlier appeared more frequently, and commonly with a young girl wrapped around his arm.

Though it all bothered him, he pushed the worries deep in his mind and continued to play his music until he arrived at the current date. And as he stared down at the black and white keys, Erik battled with himself on what to do. He could either stay down here until someone came down to find him or he could force himself out of the room and find Christine and apologize for hurting her.

But, he refused to suck in his pride and he would simply flare with anger when he remembered how she demanded him to tell her what had happened. She was a woman, and thus had no reason to demand _anything_ from him!

Unable to sit still any longer, he shoved himself away from the piano and looked around the room. Hardly any candles were lit and papers completely littered the floor from whenever he actually bothered to write down the music he was creating. The many mirrors that were placed across the room were either covered by drapes or the glass had shattered off them. To put things simply, Erik had driven the place as far down as he was feeling. Sighing, he walked over to the small diorama he had made of the opera house's stage and carefully picked up the small doll he had made of Christine in her costume during _Don Juan Triumphant_. Even in miniature form, she was breathtaking.

"My lovely Christine," he whispered, reaching out a finger to gently stroke the fake brown curls. He recalled the hours he spent creating the small doll and how happy he was when she was finished.

Wrapping his hand around the figurine, he brought his hand close to his chest as he felt his eyes begin to grow heavy...

_Erik soon forced his eyes open and found that he was in a strange room. It was entirely filled with tapestries, but they were woven so that they appeared like fire. Suddenly, he felt the worst pain imaginable shot through his whole body and he tried to move, tried to get away from the burning sensation, but he quickly found himself unable to move._

_When he looked up, he saw that red hot irons held him firmly down and the pain seemed to immediately increase. He was unable to hold back his scream of pure pain as the metal burned his skin. The smell of burning flesh filed his nostrils and he closed his eyes, praying for the pain and stench to disappear._

_Soon enough, his wish was granted. Erik felt such relief, and nearly groaned in pleasure as cool liquid surrounded him entirely. Sighing, he began coughing violently as his lungs were filled with freezing cold water. _Air_, he thought. _Swim, damn it, swim! _Kicking for dear life, he gasped and sucked down as much air as he could the minute his head broke through the water. Even though he was completely exhausted, he somehow managed to stay afloat until the water seemed to run past him. Within seconds, he was laying on dried sand._

_Panting, he wondered what new hell he would be put through when he heard a high pitched shrieking. Breathing heavily, he felt the ground below him fall away and soon found himself facing a squirming and shrieking bundle. Terrified, he paused, listening to the helpless screams. There was no possible way that this could be really happening to him, all this pain for it to only lead up to a screaming blanket._

_"Open it Erik!" a female's voice cried out in the darkness. "Look at it and see what hell you made me go through!"_

_Before he even had time to think about what he had been just ordered to do, his hands reached out and held the bundle. Holding it in one hand, his other reluctantly reached out and removed the blanket._

_"That's right," the voice whispered. "Take a good, long look." And he did just that. The screaming thing was hideous, but he knew he couldn't turn away. "You put that thing inside me, and then it destroyed me. It's all your fault, Erik. Everything is _your fault_!"_

_It was then that Erik realized who the voice belonged to. "Christine...?"_

_"Yes Erik," Christine said, appearing beside him as she mockingly smiled up at him. "Isn't she beautiful? She looks just like her father, after all."_

_He wanted to turn away, to throw the screaming child out of his arms and run away, but something kept him there. "This isn't my child," he stated._

_"Oh, but it is. Our little daughter has your face. Look at it, Erik, and tell me that it isn't." Glancing down, he watched in horror as her skin appeared like it was boiling. He couldn't stand it anymore; he dropped the child as he watched her face begin to melt off. Before she hit the ground, her body seemed to disappear like fine dust and soon everything around him was black._

_"You left me, Erik."_

_"No I didn't..."_

_"_You did!_" Christine screamed. A giant drop of water fell on him, and Erik looked up to see a small opening high in the sky. "After you left me, I was all alone. Sorelli and Meg tried helping me, but it was only for so much. Before long, that creature you forced inside me came into this world and took my life along with it!"_

_"It's not my fault!"_

_"But it is," she muttered. "After I died, the thing didn't last long." Suddenly, Christine appeared once again beside him, her body close as more drops of water began to gather around him. "Why can't you see it, darling?" she mocked, her lips moving close to his, her voice like that of a light breeze. "It's all your fault. It was you who took me away; it was you who made me give birth to that creature."_

_"No..." he muttered, trying to move away._

_"Yes. You just can't face the fact that you're nothing but a monster!"_

"_No_!" Erik shouted, jolting awake. Sweat covered his entire body and his heart was beating like mad. He trembled slightly as he tried to catch his breath. Looking down, he glanced at the Christine doll he held in his hand before throwing her back on the table and quickly standing up. Grabbing nothing more than his mask to cover his face, he entered through the shattered mirror that led into the passageway and ran down the corridor until he arrived at the secret door. Instantly pressing down on one of the bricks, he nearly flew out of the passageway when it was fully opened.

Seeing the house off in the distance, he ran as fast as his legs could possibly carry him to the front door and, when he finally arrived, threw it open. "Christine!" he called out, striding into the bedroom. "I'm home!"

No one was there. Erik stared in puzzlement at the empty bed before noticing that no one had laid down in it for weeks. Frowning, he moved to the wardrobe and opened the doors; there were only a handful of dresses left.

Hearing footsteps, Erik whipped around and practically broke down the door. "Christine?" he called out hopefully.

"Sorry to disappoint," the woman's voice said when she entered the room, "but I merely came to gather some things."

"Where is Christine, Sorelli?" Erik growled, anger suddenly flaring in him upon seeing the woman.

"How has that wound of yours been treating you?"

"_Damn it, woman, answer me_!" he shouted, forming his fist into a hand and pounding it into the wall, creating a large dent. Sorelli stood in silence, studying his face contorted in complete anger as he glared at her. "Where is my _wife_?"

"She left," she answered, walking past him and up to the opened wardrobe where she removed the few dresses left. "After two weeks of staying cooped up in this house, she believed that you weren't coming back. I offered to take her in and she is currently staying with me and Meg."

"I thought that you lived in the opera house," Erik hissed, not happy with learning this new information.

"A personal issue came up and I found it a wise investment to have my own home," she replied calmly. "You've created quite a stir, Erik. I do hope that you know what you're doing." Glaring at her, Erik stormed past her and out into the open air where he gazed around at the scenery.

Breathing in a slight sigh of relief with knowing that Christine was at least safe, he vowed that he would find her and somehow set things right again.

"So, what are you going to do?" Sorelli questioned, appearing from the inside of the house with several things in tow.

"Whether you tell me where she is or not, I'll find her," he said, still staring out into the fields. "Even if I have to tear up all of Paris."

* * *

C: That was one hell of a messed up dream you forced Erik to go through.

E: But it was _amazing_!

C: -sigh- What am I going to do with you?

E: Love me, feed me, never leave me?

C: -rolls eyes- As always, make sure you all review. And it can be about anything: the characters, the plot, whatever floats your boat.

E: And don't forget to come back for the next exciting installment of Roses of Life!

C: Goodbye.


	21. Promises and Hopes

E: Haha…hahahahaha…

C: Good God, you've lost it.

E: Have not!

C: Okay, then what is your grand excuse this time?

E: Erik's bored and exhausted beyond belief...

C: Then why do you bother to do these author's notes? It's not like they're _required_ out of you!

E: Because then Erik would be lonely and have no one to talk too! -sniff-

C: God, you're a lost cause.

E: Not a lose cause per-se, more like...a bundle of awaiting glory.

C: So a lost cause?

E: Exactly. -smiles-

C: Nevermind... Everyone, please enjoy Chapter 21.

* * *

Roses of Life

* * *

Life below him seemed so happy and cheerful despite the gloomy mood the Phantom found himself in. Everyone was smiling and laughing while he was in such a desperate search of his missing wife that he never once in the three days he had been stalking about laughed, much less smiled. By the time the morning of the second day arrived, he realized that Sorelli was indeed telling the truth of Christine not being anywhere within the Opera House. The problem now was cornering the ballet mistress and demanding where his beloved was being kept hidden.

But, it seemed that whenever he was just moments away from swooping down upon the woman and demand the location of his wife, some random ballet girl would appear out of nowhere and drag Madame Giry away. Or she would be called upon by Carlotta or the managers. Or she had to go off and help the stagehands organize the scenery! _This woman was never once alone_!

Hearing the grandfather clock that had been placed backstage chime ten times, Erik cursed himself for letting his thoughts wander and began to climb the catwalks again, searching for the woman. Silently telling himself that both Christine and his unborn child were in safe hands, he finally found the missing woman wrapping a coat and scarf around her thin body before walking out of the Opera Populaire.

Letting slip a small smile, he quickly and quietly climbed down from the scaffolding and stayed to the shadows as he followed the elusive woman.

The cold night air bit against his exposed hands and face as his footsteps fell into hers as he continued following her down the cobblestone streets. They passed by the lavishly decorated public buildings and stores, then traveled into the middle-class neighborhood. Thinking that they would turn at one of the many side roads leading further into the neighborhood, Erik was surprised that they continued walking along, even going as far as passing the neighborhood that belonged to the aristocratic.

"What the hell is going on here?" he muttered to himself, following her as she suddenly turned a corner and disappeared into a side street. Pulling up the black scarf he wore around his neck further up his face, he continued pursuing the older woman until he found them both on the outskirts of Paris. "What the…"

Stopping to quickly hid within the shadows a nearby home cast on the ground, Erik watched as Sorelli entered a home that rested at the end of a small cobblestone street. Now knowing where his missing wife had burrowed away, he took a moment to study his new surroundings.

The neighborhood wasn't anything fancy to belong to the aristocratic neighborhood, but it wasn't so close together to belong to the middle-class. The buildings were tall, most of them at least two stories, and spread apart enough so that they had their own mini gardens. In truth, this would have been the last place he would expect Christine locked away.

Noticing that the three-story house Sorelli now lived in also had a backyard, he smiled wickedly to himself as he stepped away from his hiding place and walked up beside the house and easily climbed over the fence separating the outside world from the inside.

Feeling his feet hit the moist ground, he quickly moved to the other side of the small garden and hid himself beneath a grove of fruit trees as he stared up at the back of the house. There was about four window on each floor, and only four were lit. There was two on the bottom floor and two on the top. Voices were coming from the bottom floor, two in fact, before the lights down there disappeared and, after a short moment, another on the top.

Hearing more voices, he could see the shadowed silhouette of Christine appear briefly in the window before disappearing in the candle light. Waiting with baited breath for her to appear again, he watched silently as the voices soon ceased and the other two lights from the room were put out.

Several minutes passed, or hours for all he knew, until the candle in Christine's room were put out as well, leaving the house in an intimidating darkness. Stepping out from the protection of the fruit trees, Erik gazed at the stone wall in search of some way to climb to the bedroom window. Spotting a grid fence resting against the granite wall, he walked over to it and wrapped his hands around the ivy-covered wood before taking a deep breath and began climbing up the fence.

Quickly reaching Christine's bedroom window, he peered inside to see her sleeping and soundlessly opened the window. Within the confines of the room in seconds, he stepped up to her bedside and gazed down at her sleeping form as the moonlight bathed her body.

"Absolutely beautiful," he whispered, falling to his knees beside her as he reached out and gently placed his hand against her pale cheek. Feeling burning tears sting at the corner of his eyes, he thanked whatever being rested in the heaven's for helping him find Christine as he leaned over the bed and simply stared at her as she slept.

After several moments of silence, he whispered, "I'm so sorry, my love," before leaning over and gently kissing her smooth forehead. "I've worried you so much and left you alone for so long. It's is all my fault, for I am a foolish and ungrateful person," he muttered, burying his hands within the mass of her brown curls as his head rested lightly on her chest. Closing his eyes, he could hear her heart beating and compared it to his.

"I'll change, _ma chérie_," he promised. "I won't ever harm you again. And when I've capture my beautiful princess once again, I'll show you the depths of my love." Pressing another gentle kiss against her forehead, he gently slid away the covers and gazed at her body. In the six weeks he had disappeared, her being with child had become more apparent. Her stomach was beginning to grow as well as her breasts, causing Erik to fight away the temptation to sample his missing wife. _Another time_, he assured himself as he instead bent his head down to her swollen stomach.

"My little Jolee," he whispered. "Daddy is sorry that he left, but he promises that he'll never do anything like this again, even after you get here," Erik reassured before tenderly kissing Christine's clothed stomach.

Hearing a soft moan escape her lips, he smiled slightly and lifted his head so that he softly kissed her lips. "I love you, darling," he whispered. "And I'll return for you soon." Kissing her one last time, he reached into his vest and took out a rose he had earlier stowed away and placed it on the bedding beside her before standing and leaving the room.

* * *

"_Christine," Erik whispered to her, his voice feeling like liquid velvet pouring over her body, "_ma chérie_, I have missed you." A soft whimper escaped her lips when she felt the nightgown she wore being slipped off her body, leaving her exposed to his molten gaze._

_Her brown eyes closed, she gasped when she felt his lips brush against her stomach, but soon sighed in pleasure as her fingers entwined in the midnight strands that rested on his hand. "And my child too. I have missed the both of you…"_

"_Erik," she whispered, rolling her head to the side as he went up to place a gently kiss against her neck._

"_Christine?"_

"_Yes Erik?"_

"_Christine, wake up." Her brow furrowed, not understanding what he was saying._

"_What do you mean?"_

A loud knocking against the wooden door that was the only entrance to her room caused Christine to wake with a start. "Christine, wake up! Mama wants you down for breakfast!" Meg's voice called out.

"Alright, Meg, I'm coming," she managed to reply, collapsing back onto the welcoming mattress and leaning her lean into the pillows as she sighed. It was all a dream. "Of course it was, Christine," she scolded herself as Meg's retreating footsteps could be clearly heard in the hallway. "It's not like he _actually appeared _in my bedroom in the middle of the night and _actually_—" All words were stopped, though, as she turned her head around and caught sight of the red rose that lay gently on the blankets.

Lifting herself up from the warm bed, she reached out a shaking hand and carefully picked up the rose, studying it until she broke out into a wide smile. Grabbing the edge of the blankets and throwing them off her body, she gently placed the rose down on the bedside table and happily walked to her wardrobe. Flinging the doors wide open, she quickly chose a lilac colored dress and put it on her body.

Glancing at herself in the mirror, she couldn't help but smile at the thought of her husband visiting her late in the night. Moving closer to the looking-glass, she stared at the outfit and nodded her agreement. The gown was very loose around her, due to her growing pregnancy, but did it in a flattering way. The skirts started from a thick sash that rested right above her stomach and fell gracefully down past her feet to pool at the floor. The sleeves were slightly puffy, with another close-fitting sleeve beneath it, and had small white ribbons at the ending which stayed close to her wrist. Though the dress itself was white, everything had a thin lilac-colored fabric covering everything that the dress appeared that color to begin with.

Quickly grabbing the rose left behind for her, she placed it in her hair before slipping on a pair of shoes and running out of her room and down the stairs until she arrived to the second floor.

"Meg!" she called out upon entering the dining room. "Meg, he was here last night!"

"Who was?" Meg questioned, confused as her friend ran up beside her and hugged her tightly.

"Erik! Erik was!"

"Christine, calm down!" the blonde exclaimed, taking hold of her friend's hands and forcing her to sit down in one of the straight-back chairs. "Now, did you see him?"

"Well…not exactly. I was having a dream…" she trailed off, suddenly loosing confidence in her words, but brightened up instantly as she reached into her hair and took out the rose. "But he left this behind! I know he was here, Meg; didn't you hear him at all?"

"No, Christine. Neither Mama or I heard a sound last night," Meg said softly, holding her friend's hand as she stared at the rose. "And Mama is always bringing home flowers from the florist. You probably found a rose and fell asleep with it at your bedside and forgot about it. It has been over six weeks since you've seen him, after all."

Falling silent, Christine stared at the red flower and recalled how she would find herself staring longingly at the roses Madame Giry would bring in and had to bit her cheeks to stop the tears from falling. "But it was so real, Meg! It couldn't have been a dream, it just couldn't!"

"And I'm not saying that it was or not, Christine," Meg corrected, trying to calm her friend as her brown eyes began to shimmer with held back tears. "All I'm saying is that you shouldn't get your hopes too high…"

Eyes glancing down to her lap where she had rested the rose, she studied the petals in silence, too embarrassed with how she got so carried away with the possibility of Erik having a late-night rendezvous in her sleep. Though she couldn't help but silently wish for it to be true, she plastered on a fake smile and tried to change the subject.

"Do you know what you are going to name him, Meg?" she asked, talking about her friend's own unborn child. Grinning, Meg placed her hand gently over her own stomach as she happily sighed.

"He's one of the best things that's ever happened to me," she confided in her friend. "I don't know what to name him. And I've thought of many names too: Aimé, Dimitri, Maximilien, but nothing seems right."

"You'll find what you're looking for soon," Christine assured, reaching out to hold her friend's hand in a similar way she had been holding hers earlier, "I promise."

* * *

"Honestly, Raoul, I don't understand why you bother. Sure, it was fun at first, but it soon became more of a chore than anything."

"Say what you want brother, but I don't intend on changing anytime soon," Raoul replied with a slight chuckle as he lifted the glass he was holding and took another drink of the strong alcohol. "Besides, Philippe, she truly is a pretty little thing."

"They're all pretty in the beginning, Raoul," Philippe replied with a smile as he placed down the glass he was holding onto the table beside him, "but you need to find a woman that is so amazing that you'll never grow bored of her looks."

"Or I could do what you did and get drunk whenever she's around," he replied, laughing as his brother sadly shook his head. Reaching into his inner jacket pocket, Philippe took out a case full of cigars and took one out before offering the case to his brother. When his younger brother refused, he simply shrugged his shoulders and lit the end before breathing deeply in.

"I'm just saying that you'll soon grow bored of this Antoinette. Sure, she's good fun now, but when it comes to marriage she's a far cry from being the type Father would allow," Philippe advised after blowing out the long stream of smoke. "What ever happened to that one little brunette? What was her name, again?"

"I don't recall," Raoul lied, his laughter stifling at his former fiancée being brought up into the conversation.

"Surely she must be more memorable if you proposed to her? Father liked her too. Shy little thing; always looked terrified whenever she was with you. Whatever happened to her, brother?"

"I've told you before," Raoul snapped, taking another drink as he stared out of the window looking out into the large garden Philippe owned, "she was stolen away by another."

Sighing, Philippe took another lung of smoke before leaning back into the leather chair as he gazed out the window with his brother. "Well, it would be in your best interest to get married, whether you love the woman or not. After all, look at me! I have a caring wife and a heir with another child on the way."

"And let's not forget your lovely mistress as well," Raoul pointed out, humor returning to him as brushed back his blond hair from his face. Philippe smiled and laughed as he nodded his head in agreement.

"Yes, and if I was able I'd marry Lucette, but society does frown upon such relationships. I do not wish to bring shame on the family name, and neither should you, brother. Even if you do not find interest in the woman you marry, at least do so to continue the family name."

A hush passed through the two men as Raoul remembered how, long ago, one of the ballet girls talked with him about the rumor of Meg's pregnancy. Though it was back during the dress rehearsals, and there was no way to prove that even if she was indeed pregnant that it was his seed inside her. But despite his reassurance that there was no way that it could be his child, he still felt a gnawing worry grow in the back of his mind and it grew even more so when Meg had begun to avoid him completely. Then, when he learned of her departure from the Opera Populaire, he could not simply push aside the possibility.

"Raoul?" Philippe questioned, confused as his brother continued to remain quiet.

"Hm? Oh, nothing, Philippe. Just…thinking is all," he replied, running his fingers through his hair as he leaned his head against his hand. Why did it matter? For all he knew, it was just a rumor that he was losing sleep over.

"Well, I still think that you should at least court some lovely ladies that are within your status. I know of a few that Father introduced to me before and I believe that they are still eligible. It was only a few years ago that he put an end to my bachelor ways, after all. I'll write to him and see if he can't find a few for you to meet as well," Philippe promised before a sudden knock on the parlor door put an end to their conversation. "Enter," Philippe order.

A young maid, no older than sixteen, poked her head inside and blushed as she slowly entered the room. "Speak, my dear," Philippe said with a warm smile.

"There are three men in the foyer, saying that they were invited to discuss something with you and Monsieur Chagny," she squeaked before performing a slight bow.

"What are their names?" the older man asked, brushing back his own blond hair away from his face as his brown eyes studied her.

"They announced that their names were Monsieur André, Monsieur Firmin, and Monsieur Lafayette."

"Let them in," Raoul ordered before sitting up from his chair. "They're the men I was discussing with you earlier; they're here to talk about Mademoiselle Daaé."

"Ah yes, the missing soprano," Philippe replied, smiling slightly as he finished his cigar before putting it out and standing with his brother. "Take them to the library up on the fourth floor, María, if you will," he said with a charming smile before walking with Raoul out of the room as María passed them to deliver the message.

"Speaking of which, where is your Lucette? Normally she's always by your side but I've yet to see her all morning," Raoul asked as they entered the library that Philippe and him were to meet the three men.

"I sent her out earlier to buy some things for herself. She's been restless and I hate seeing her like that," Philippe replied as he walked over to one of the shelves and took out a frayed book from the shelf and opened the cover.

Looking around his brother's private library, he noticed a large oil painting hanging over the marble fireplace and moved closer to inspect it. It was a painting of a young woman with dark red hair and green eyes that seemed to know everything. "Lucette, I presume?" he inquired, staring at the painting.

"Indeed."

"She's gotten prettier since I last saw her," Raoul commented before turning around and walking up to his brother.

"Well, the last time you saw her was when she was a mere seventeen. She's almost twenty now." Closing the book he held, Philippe put the aged tome back in its place before the three men that he called up to the private room finally arrived. "So good to see you all," he said pleasantly.

"Philippe," André and Firmin both said in silent respect before walking into the room and sitting down in the welcoming chairs.

"And I don't believe we've met," he said, walking up to Marcel with Raoul beside him.

"Philippe, Monsieur Marcel Lafayette," Raoul introduced quickly.

"I'm the investigator searching for Mademoiselle Daaé," Marcel explained before everyone took a seat.

A short silence passed as everyone stared at each other save Marcel and Philippe, who seemed completely at peace with what was going on around them. "Now, we all know why we're here," Marcel said, breaking the silence as he lifted his head and reached into his jacket pocket, taking out a photo and placing it onto the glass table the rested in front of everybody. It was a picture of Christine. "We need to come up with a plan to not only rescue Mademoiselle Daaé, but also get rid of this Phantom and end all this madness!"

"And as the owners of the Opera Populaire," Firmin added, "André and I both want this insanity over and down with as soon as possible."

"Well, gentlemen, do we have a plan?" Philippe questioned, taking out another cigar as the room fell mute.

"Not really," André muttered. "But this man is a wanted murderer. We certainly can't allow him to freely move about the streets of Paris."

"I think we can all agree to that," Raoul included, his voice slightly bitter as he thought what Christine could have been possibly forced through at the hands of the killer who all of Paris was searching for.

Marcel glanced at everyone in the room, studying their faces as they all waited for someone to say something, anything. "I believe that Raoul has a plan that could possibly work, as he had informed me earlier yesterday when he graciously invited me to his brother's home," he said calmly, gazing across the table to the youngest man in the room. Nervously nodding his head, Raoul took a deep breath to calm his nerves before looking at the men surrounding him, all eagerly awaiting his plan.

"It is possible to use a previous plan and reinvent it so that we can capture the Phantom," Raoul explained. "I believe that if we throw a masquerade ball in celebration of the success of the opera that we could draw him out." Instantly, words of disagreement started up from the two managers but they instantly quieted once Marcel raised his hand in silence.

"Continue, please," Philippe said gently as he relaxed into the familiar leather of the chair.

Nodding his head, Raoul took another deep breath before continuing, "what I think we should do is this: when Christine is left alone, we'll take her away and pretend to take her captive, thus drawing out the Phantom. We'll have to be quick and arrest him before he has the chance of escaping."

"And how are we suppose to invite Mademoiselle Daaé to this opera when she is presumably missing?" Firmin spat as André dabbed at his forehead with a handkerchief.

"I know for a fact that she is currently residing with Madame Giry and her daughter in a house placed on the outskirts of the city," Marcel interjected calmly. Glancing over at Raoul, he sighed slightly as he went back to gaze at the managers. "What I believe Monsieur Chagny is trying to say is that we have no other plan than this. If we continue to let this Opera Ghost roam about with little on his mind than his next kill, then we must act quickly before his next victim is Mademoiselle Daaé. Time is _of the essence_."

"Why can't you understand this man can not be killed, much less arrested!" André exclaimed. "Because he's not a man; he's a _ghost_! A ghost that will stop at nothing and no one to get what he wants—"

A sudden slap across André's pale cheek brought an immediate silence from everyone as the shocked man stared at Marcel. "Get a hold of yourself!" the elderly man hissed between his tightly clenched teeth. "This monster is as much a ghost as you or I are! If anything, he is a madman or a simple prankster playing a joke that has gone too far for too long." Straightening his stance, he carefully looks at each man before clearing his throat out. "I understand that you wish the safe return of Christine," he said, indicating Raoul as he calmly took his seat once again. "And I can help _all of you_, but only if you listen to me and follow exactly what I say; going as far as dotting the 'i's and crossing the 't's. Now, this plan can work, but it will require an _effort_ put into it." Pausing to see if they were still listening, Firmin violently nodded his head as André momentarily ceased his trembling. "The ball will be held in exactly five day's time. I want an invitation sent out to the Giry residence for all of them by tomorrow morning at the latest. Do you understand me?"

"Yes," they all said in unison before Marcel gave them a playful smile.

"Before this month is out, you shall have your Phantom, you your Christine, and I my reward."

* * *

E: And…end scene!

C: Finally!

E: I know, I'm so use to my short chapters. Sure, they don't contain much, but there has to be something in it for everyone to keep coming back for more.

C: Yes, we all worship the ground you walk on and such.

E: -smiles- Yes, I know. Now, back to the present, I hope you all enjoyed the chapter.

C: Indeed, seeing as Erik and I talked for nearly three hours on the phone just to figure out how the events were going to be playing out in the next few chapters were going to be laid out.

E: And we have a surprise! It is official now: we have a solid plot line to follow!

C: Isn't it amazing? Before, Erik would just wing the chapters and I'd edited and pray that he would remember plot details and bring them back up again.

E: But now we have a solid thing to go on and guide Erik on where he needs to be! Hallelujah!

C: So we're kinda celebrating. Erik's making up ideas to put in here and everything.

E: Ah, but now we're just teasing you. My poor little readers, so sated for now but always hungry for more. Yes, I can see the drool running down those little pouting lips and the hunger and hope from those begging eyes.

C: Okay, let's please not freak out the viewers.

E: Agreed! Everyone, do your duty as my reader and review!

C: Don't forget the tuning in for the next chapter either.

E: That too! For the next chapter, it's going to be the masquerade ball and Erik's possible rest. There, I threw you a little gossip bone.

C: Be nice to them! –sighs- Despite what he says, we both still hope to see you all next chapter.


	22. Masquerade Trap

E: Hello everyone and welcome back! It has been an exciting few days for both Erik and Christine. Erik has taught himself to stay up past midnight now so he's starting to become an insomniac now! Yay!

C: Yes, so Erik's been a little…off as of late.

E: Hmm. Yes, indeed.

C: Now, Christine and Erik wished to talk about something regarding a review that someone posted.

E: Yes, regarding his French. Erik is sorry, but he has just started taking French classes and he wrote that when he didn't know all too much. Plus, his French dictionary that he uses isn't always as helpful as he wishes it to be, so he's sorry for the mistakes.

C: And I couldn't correct them as his editor because…well, quite frankly I'm not taking French as a language.

E: And Erik is very disappointed in you for it. Now, concerning this specific chapter, Erik is going to warn you right away that it is long compared to his normal chapters.

C: Yes and, much to my dismay, there is some scenes that you might not entirely approve of.

E: But that is the price of writing, my love. You create words and do so with a purpose then pray that people will stick along enough to understand why you wrote them.

C: So with that warning, we'll see everyone at the ending author's notes. Happy reading.

* * *

Roses of Life

* * *

"Oh, Christine, this is so exciting!" Meg exclaimed as her mother, Sorelli, helped her into a dress as all three women stood in a rather large dressing room. "The Opera House always throws the best parties, after all."

"Yes, they do," she replied quietly as Sorelli finished lacing up the dress her daughter was to wear, a light blue dress with cream highlights, as Christine sat aside in a chair, already dressed. "But aren't you a little concerned?"

"Whatever for?" Meg inquired, going over to the vanity after her mother finished her up and began to put up her hair. Sorelli, sensing Christine's unease, motioned for her to stand and began re-lacing the red ball gown she was to wear.

"I'm sure that he is fine, Christine. Erik is not stupid and would never unknowingly walk into danger. And I'm also sure that he has been worried about you all this time."

"It's just…when he left, I waited until I realized that it was unlikely he was going to return. Then…then I had that…dream," she said, choosing her words carefully as both women were skeptical of Christine's claim to what had happened that night a few days back, "and now I just keep thinking he's going to come back and sweep me off my feet. Then this masquerade party comes up out of the blue and I'm just so worried for him."

"I do agree that it is strange that they are pulling the same trick as last time, but I don't think Erik would do anything rash," Sorelli soothed, finishing off the lacing before sitting her down beside the vanity as Meg went off to find her mask. "Now, let us focus on making you look so beautiful that if he indeed shows up, he'll forget everything but you."

Giggling at the older woman's words, she smiled softly into the reflection as Sorelli brushed her curls before handing her the black mask she was to wear. "There you go, my dear," she whispered.

"Oh, Christine, you look so wonderful!" Meg exclaimed, reentering the room with her mask in place before running up to Christine and hugging her tightly. "I'm sure that all eyes will be on you."

"You look amazing too, Meg," she said, smiling up at her friend as she sat up and quickly slipped on the ballet-like flats that went with her dress before walking with the two women out into the small foyer then outside into the growing night before stepping into a carriage that Madame Giry had called for earlier.

As the stagecoach began its journey towards the Opera Populaire, Christine stared outside the window as Sorelli and Meg happily conversed with one another. Looking up at the stars, she wondered where her husband was that night and if she was going to be seeing him as she absentmindedly played with the ring on her left hand.

* * *

Staring at himself in the mirror, Erik sighed heavily as he thought of what the night was going to bring. Or _who_ it was going to bring.

Thinking it a terrible shame that he could not dress up as Red Death like he had done before, he instead decided to go with a simple costume that would not bring much attention to himself. Looking over his appearance, he deemed it subtle enough and began to tuck his hair underneath the same wig he had used when posing as Sven, hoping no one would take much notice to it as he placed a mask on himself to hid his face.

Looking over his appearance, he wondered if Christine would recognize him at all, and smiled slightly. If she was anything like he could recall, she would be able to tell in a heartbeat. Shaking his head away from any distracting thoughts, he glanced at a small clock and, seeing that it was nearly ten, decided that the party had been going on long enough without his presence and made his way out from the catacombs and into the catwalks backstage of the Opera House.

When he was sure that no one was around, he went down to the ground and quickly adjusted the wig before quietly making his way backstage until he arrived, unnoticed, into the large foyer where the ball was being held.

It seemed that, even though he tried his very best to blend into the crowd so that he would not be noticed, he still drew attention to himself. Perhaps it was his aloof and obvious distaste for the upper class and their ridiculous parties that gave him away, but he could only help so much.

Walking off a distance as he could hear a small group of women begin to talk about as they shyly glanced back, Erik kept looking out onto the dancing floor but still was unable to find her anywhere in the throng.

"Monsieur?" a soft, gentle voice asked, though he knew instantly that it didn't belong to his angel. Removing his gaze from the floor below him, he glanced down to see a madly blushing woman stand before him, nervously covering her face with her fan despite her mask as she stared at the floor. "I-I was simply w-wondering…if you could tell me…w-w-who you are? I know all the men that frequent the Opera Populaire, yet I've never s-seen your face before."

"_It is no bother whether you recognized my face or not, ma'am, but I do advise you give me peace for the night_," Erik replied, trying to sound as pleasant as he could in hopes that, in learning he spoke another language, he would turn the girl away. She seemed to tremble instantly out of concern as he soon realized that, when he was irritated enough, even him being pleasant came out as a menacing growl.

"I-I'm sorry! I didn't know…" she whispered, indicating the language before curtsying out of nerves and forced politeness. "What a stupid thing of me, I should have asked first thing if you knew French at all—"

"_It's just fine, ma'am_," Erik interrupted, suddenly feeling too crowded around in the room. "_But if you could just excuse me, I need to get some fresh air_." Walking past her, he headed for the first balcony he could find and stepped outside into the night air, thankful that no one was on the terrace.

Leaning against a stone column, he prayed for no more surprise encounters from random women and turned around to leave, only to instantly hide himself in the dark shadows as another person entered the balcony quietly. Studying the new person, he realized that it was a woman and that she seemed hauntingly familiar. But it wasn't until she turned to face the soft moonlight did he breath catch in his throat.

It was his Christine. His beautiful, lovely wife was standing a mere foot away from him. And she looked absolutely gorgeous, so much so that he wanted to immediately take her in his arms and steal her breath away like she had done for him.

In the moonlight, he could tell that she was wearing a red ball gown in the current French fashion. The neckline hung onto the side of her shoulders and dipped slightly down, showing just a little cleavage and was trimmed off with a black lace that rested against her pale skin. Her sleeves her close to the skin until it reached her elbow, were it opened up into a bell-like shape with plenty of delicate layers of black fabric to fill it up, and the sleeves themselves were so long that they had to be knotted so they wouldn't drag on the ground. The end of the bodice was trimmed with black lace, as well as the end of the dress skirts, which had a small train. Her hair wasn't tied back like it normally was and instead covered some of her forehead as it fell down in gentle locks, framing her face as they gracefully fell down her face.

She looked absolutely ravishing.

"Mademoiselle," he said quietly, revealing himself from the shadows as Christine turned to the source of the noise. "Don't be frightened; I wish no harm upon you." Staring deeply into her own brown eyes, he felt he was going to melt as a flicker of realization passed through them.

"Do I know you, monsieur?" she softly asked, staring right back into his own eyes.

"Perhaps. Do I remind you of anyone?" he asked, smiling slightly as he played along.

"You do," she admitted. "Though who you remind me of has long since left and I've yet to hear of him." Turning away from him, Christine walked closer to the edge of the balcony and looked out onto the scene of Paris as the man she just met walked up beside her.

Though she wasn't going to admit it, the moment that she heard the man speak she knew it was Erik. And her breath caught in her throat as she caught his gaze within hers and let his smooth voice float throughout her body. _Don't let it be a dream_, she thought as they both stared off into the distance, _not this time._

"Why would he leave a thing like you?" Erik asked her and she couldn't hold back her smile. He knew that she knew as well, and now she found herself playing a game with him, if one could call it that.

"I don't know. Before he had left I had learned of a horrible secret he had been hiding from me and I demanded from him that he tell me the truth. But he simply told me that it was none of my business and left me alone. I haven't seen him in almost two months now."

Erik paused as his hand casually reached out to rest over hers as they continued staring at the sleeping city. "If I were him, I would have been terribly sorry for doing such a thing to you. And that by the time I—he, that is, realized his mistake it was far too late to ask for your forgiveness."

"Perhaps you…he…should not have left me. Especially in the state I was in at the time."

"He wasn't thinking at the time, I can tell. He probably was too blinded with fury to think anything through."

"Oh really?" Christine asked, skeptical.

"If I were him, I would have been too proud…or ashamed at what I had done…to show myself to you. But I would be depressed the entire time I was alone, wishing for your love back."

"I see…" she muttered. "And, if you were in his situation, what do you think you would have done in your disappearance?"

"Hide away. Somewhere were no one would find me so that I may hate myself and my thoughtless actions and words in peace. But, if I were this mystery man, I would go back eventually to you. But, as I'm sure you are the type of woman, I would not find you where I would expect you."

"That does sound like me. What then? As far as you know, I've disappeared off the face of the world? How would you find me?"

"Well, first I would find someone who was very close to you, and proceed to follow them, dead determined to search all of Paris if I had to, to find such a pretty thing like you. Then once I found where you had hidden away in your own right, I'd sneak into your room in the dead of night and whisper my words of love and devotion to you in your sleep, praying that they would somehow make it into your dreams." Christine had to somehow stop her pounding heart. That night wasn't a dream like she had been led to believe!

"And how would you plan to win me back?"

"Never win, mademoiselle, for I see that you are not easily swayed by mere words. I would fine a public place, such as this party, and somehow get around to speaking to you privately." Turning her head to face him, Christine caught his molten gaze in hers and she felt her knees go weak.

"What then?" she asked, slightly breathless.

"Then, I would beg of your forgiveness, promising you that, even if it took me the rest of my life, I would prove to you that I truly loved you. And that no matter what you would do or say to me, I would know that I deserve all your hatred for leaving you with both our ghosts for so long." Suddenly, Christine realized that her free hand had been reaching out for the right of his face when his hand took hers and pressed her palm lovingly against his right cheek as his other hand moved to her waist, his gaze still not leaving hers. "And what would you say to me in return?"

"That you drove a hard bargain, but that you would have to do more than that to make me come back."

"Like what, _ma chérie_?" Erik whispered, his voice holding her in a spell that was hard for her to resist.

"Like swearing you would never harm anyone unless it was necessary."

"What else?" he asked, moving closer to her as he kept her eyes locked with his.

"And that you'd never be allowed to leave me again, and that when you did you would tell me where you were."

"Anything more?" By now, they were a mere breath away, his head leaning close to hers.

"You'd have to take me out somewhere…to make up for all the lonely weeks. And not just once either." Erik smirked.

"And if I was him and I indeed accepted it all, would you take me back?" His lips were so close to hers and Christine found that her heart was beating like crazy from anticipation.

"Yes." Suddenly being dragged into the shadows of the balcony and away from prying eyes, she found herself being feverishly kissed by Erik, like his very life depended upon feeling his lips against hers. Her arms instinctively wrapped around his neck as his wrapped around her waist, bringing her close as she kissed him back until she became delirious.

"Christine, _ma ange_," he whispered sensually, holding her beside him as his lips softly trailed down her neck as her brown eyes closed, savoring the feeling of him against her skin once again. "How I have missed seeing you, hearing you, holding you," his lips left her neck and went back to her lips and kissed her so passionately that she moaned quietly from the pleasure of it all, "kissing you."

"Erik, we mustn't. Not here, at least," she whispered, trying not to give into the temptation that was her husband.

"How can I resist you, my darling?" he asked, bringing his hand up to tread his fingers through her brown curls. "You look so lovely tonight, my little temptress. It is impossible for me to stay away from such beauty that is mine and mine alone."

"Erik, please," she begged, trying desperately to push away from him but only found herself leaning into his touch. "There are people here, and Sorelli is probably looking for me by now. Then there is the announcement of the new opera and—"

"The new opera is _Hippolyte et Aricie _and you are to star it in. We're in the shadows, _ma ange_, no one can see us. And Sorelli can wait," he answered before frantically covering his mouth with hers, kissing her deeply to which she couldn't help up return as she felt Erik's hand leave her hair and slowly, enticingly, move down her back.

"Christine?" Meg called out from the crowd back in the foyer. "Christine, where are you?" Said girl nearly leapt at the excuse.

"They are looking for me," she explained hastily. "I don't want to leave you, my love—"

"Then don't," he replied simply, smiling down at her as she blushed madly.

"But I must! If I don't show up they'll worry and start looking for me and I don't know what I'd do."

"It's okay, Christine," he whispered, reaching out to brush back the loose curls from her flushed face before gently kissing her forehead. "Go to them. I shall come for you later, and when I take you home…" he leaned forward, his mouth beside her ear as his hands rested on her waist suggestively, "I shall make up the lonely nights for the both of us to start."

Unable to hold back her smile, Christine quickly kissed him once again, pulling away before she would be unable to, muttered her love for him, then promised her return before leaving the shadows and reentering the upstairs foyer.

* * *

"May I have this dance?" Christine jumped as the person she had least expected to see appeared at her side.

"I don't know…" she trailed off when the man asked her a second time. Though she was trying to act like nothing had transpired when she was out on the balcony, she still found herself flushed when Meg had asked her what had happened. Then, out of the blue, a man she hadn't even heard a word about in the past two months shows up asking for a dance.

"Please, Christine? It's just one…"

Christine looked over at Raoul, his hand still extended out to her as he looked at her hopefully. Silently, she worried about whether Erik was watching and if he was growing into a silent fury at the man's boldness, but she realized that it would look strange if she denied his innocent request. So, praying that it was the right thing to do, she placed her hand in his and allowed him to lead her over to the dance floor.

"Might I say that you look absolutely stunning this evening?" he said pleasantly as he placed his free hand on her back, moving her in a simple waltz across the clear floor as the orchestra played.

"Thank you…" she replied politely, glancing over to the standby crowd, trying to see if she could find him. Almost as if he could sense her unease, Raoul smiled kindly down at her.

"Christine, I've accepted it. I've realized that I can't win you back." Turning back to face him, Christine stared at him curiously as he sighed. "You love the man that found you when you escaped. He took you in and was there for you when I wasn't. I've accepted the fact now that I can't convince you to love me like you once did…" Gazing at him sadly, Christine graciously ignored the tears welling up in his eyes and asked him if he was going to be okay. "It's just…God, could you please step aside with me?"

Nodding her head in understanding, Raoul explained that he wished to go somewhere private so that he could freely talk and begun to led her to the upstairs foyer and, eventually, to the backstage of the Opera House the was mostly deserted. "I just want to be able to freely talk with you, so please don't worry," he said with great sadness as he stopped walking and held open a door for her leading into a side room.

Though she was slightly suspicious, the sad and desperate look on her former love's face was nearly too much for her and she nodded before entering the room. Following behind her, Raoul closed the door quietly behind her before locking it without her notice.

"Raoul?" Christine asked, confused, when she noticed Marcel and a woman she had yet to meet sitting calmly near a corner of the room. "Why is he here?"

"You have to understand, Christine," Raoul explained as Marcel stood up calmly and began walking towards the two, "we are simply trying to help you."

"What is going on?" she demanded as Marcel smiled warmly at her.

"Mademoiselle, it is exactly like he said," Marcel said as he raised his hand, making a quick motion that caused two guards to appear from the wall behind her where they had been waiting and grab her arms.

"What are you doing? I demand that you tell these people to release me!" she hissed, anger and fear suddenly growing inside her as Marcel walked casually back to the woman that was with him and took a glass of wine that was resting on the table, taking a sip of it.

"I'm afraid that I can't do that, my dear."

"And why not?"

"We need to keep you under the care of these fine gentlemen until the Phantom is captured. You see, you are in great danger."

"I am in no such thing!" Christine screamed before being suddenly thrown against one of the guards, being held firmly by him as the other covered her mouth with his gloved hand.

"But, my dear," Marcel whispered, "you _are_. You escaped the Phantom's clutches once, who knows if you can do so again." Christine's eyes widened at the tone he was using as he talked to her. He knew that her story was a lie.

Slowly, the gloved hand that was covering her mouth let go. "The Phantom is not a murderer," she hissed dangerously. "He is more of a man that any one of you could ever hope to be."

"He is a cold-blooded killer who would not think twice about cutting you clean in two then raping your bloody corpse!" Marcel shouted loudly, suddenly throwing the wine glass he held at the wall. Breathing heavily, he cleared his throat before pushing his sleeked-hair back and brushing his hands on his coat. The woman with him seemed unfazed.

"That's where you are wrong, monsieur," she whispered, keeping her head high as she stared down the elderly man. His forced smile instantly dropped as he glared back at her.

"My dear, it is _you_ who are wrong. You think this is some storybook romance, and that your Phantom is some dark knight with a mysterious past," he murmured, clearly trying to remain calm with her. "But I will tell you the truth: he is and always will be nothing more than an emotionless killer. Have you already forgotten all the people he killed without so much as a thought? He is using you, and that is the only reason that you are alive. He pretends to love you and keeps you around and feeds you words that you want to hear so that he may satisfy his inhuman impulses without guilt."

"That's not true!" she exclaimed, but it was useless as the gloved hand quickly returned to her mouth.

"Why can't you see that he is incapable of real love?" Marcel asked her. "Are you so innocent that you are determined to find some good in him? Or have you actually fallen in love with the creature that you are blind and deaf to the truth?" Christine shook her head violently, trying to block out the hate-filled words as tears fell soundlessly down her cheeks. "He doesn't want _you_, after all. He just wants your _body_. Or…is that what you think love is all about?" Slowly, Marcel moved closer to Christine, despite her struggling to keep him away, his hand outstretched until it rested against her stomach.

"After all, why else would you willingly carry his seed inside you?"

"Marcel!" the woman snapped, talking for the first time since Christine entered the room. Almost like he just woke from a trance, Marcel shook his head and walked away from Christine and back to the table where he calmly sat back down again.

"I'm sorry Madeleine, my sweet," he whispered. "Take Mademoiselle Daaé away to the next room," he ordered simply, grabbing another glass and filling it with red wine as Christine was taken away into the adjoining room by the guards.

When the door was locked, Christine curled up on the chaise lounge that she was thrown upon and silently wept as she held herself. But a presence stopped her sobbing and she looked up to see that Raoul remained in the room with her.

"Is it true?" he demanded quietly. Christine froze, too terrified to say anything as he stared at her. "Do you really love him?"

For a brief moment, she felt relief that he was not talking of the truthful accusations of her child, but was quickly replace by a strange dread as Raoul continued to stare at her. "Yes," she muttered. "I love him, Raoul. More than I've loved anyone in my entire life—"

"Why him?" Raoul demanded, suddenly throwing himself on her, pinning her under him as trembled slightly. She had never seen Raoul act in such a way. Had he actually gone…insane trying to get her back?

Before she could even reply, his mouth crushed over hers; robbing her of any words but not in the same way that Erik could do to her. "Why him, Christine?" he asked again, finally pulling away. "I could give you anything you ever desired. Money, wonderful places to live, a permanent position as the leading soprano. All you would have to do is ask it and I would do anything in my power to give it to you on a golden platter." While he was talking, one of his hands pinned both her hands over her head as the other slowly explored her clothed body.

"Get off me Raoul," Christine warned, trying to struggle against him but finding she was unable to as he used his body weight to keep her still.

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Christine," he whispered, kissing her again as his free hand went under the skirts of her dress and calmly rubbed her calves. "Don't you see that I love you? Now, I'm trying to help you escape from this madman so that we can be reunited and you still fight me."

"Raoul, please—"

"It won't hurt, Christine," Raoul promised. "I'll make sure that you forget anything that monster as ever done to you."

Closing her eyes tightly as she could feel Raoul's hand move further up her leg, she prayed someone to help her; anything to stop what this man was going to do to her.

Suddenly, a loud crashing sound was heard from the adjoining room that caused Raoul to stop. It was quickly followed by shouting, then a soft explosion that caused smoke to pour in from the crack underneath the door. More shouting ensued before a high pitched scream followed after several gunshots. Both Christine and Raoul stayed perfectly silent as they gazed in terror as the doorknob violently shook.

The person trying to get in seemed uncaring of a key and the door was suddenly kicked in before a smoke bomb was thrown into the room. Seeing her chance, Christine quickly kneed Raoul forcefully in the groin before scrambling out of his grasp and running away from him.

Swiftly, someone gently grabbed her and brought her close. "We need to get out of here," a deep voice whispered into her ear before she was easily picked up and held in his arms. Nodding her head in silence, Christine burrowed herself into Erik's arms as she pressed her face against his chest, turning her gaze away as she heard several men groan in pain.

Seeing an opened window in the other room that the woman had thrown open in an attempt to clear out the thick smoke before returning to her fallen husband, Erik whispered, "hold on," to his trembling wife before quietly moving to it and climbing out.

Feeling the cold air hit his face and hands, he tightened his grasp on Christine before climbing down the side of the building until he arrived on a side balcony far away from any prying eyes. Looking down at his wife, he realized that she had fallen asleep in his arms.

Deciding that the Opera House was going to be in an uproar very soon, Erik quickly made his way back the catacombs and to his old home as he gently held Christine in his arms.

"We'll talk in the morning," he promised her sleeping form upon entering his old bedroom. Laying her tenderly down upon the soft bed, Erik placed a gentle kiss on her forehead before whispering, "I love you," then leaving her side so that she may get some rest.

* * *

E: Okay, so I know for a fact that not many people are going to like Raoul attempting to rape Christine—

C: Gee, I wonder why?

E: Shush, you. Anyways, please know that it was done intentionally. It is to help you realize that Raoul truly is becoming desperate and insane over trying to get Christine back.

C: Just remember that Erik _usually_ does everything on purpose and for a reason.

E: Yes, I do. Remember Maria and Zavier, anybody? They're going to become very important later on. Just not now…

C: So with that in mind, please review to the chapter.

E: Well see everyone in the next chapter. Goodbye my lovelies!

UPDATE: Hey, it's C. I'm going back and making some grammatical changes to the chapters that still appear here. Because... it... ANNOYS... me... I'm anal about some things.


	23. Warnings

E: Everyone, Erik is so sorry if this chapter is not up to the usual standard both you as readers and I as a writer have set. I just haven't been feeling up to writing as of late.

C: Which is somewhat weird in itself.

E: I suppose. I was depressed during the two weeks I've been writing this simple chapter, but have started getting better now. I've also been doing a ton of research when it comes to the Victorian Era so that ate up most of my time. Then…Writer's Block struck once again!

C: We all understand, Erik, I'm sure. Let's just start up the chapter.

E: Everyone… This is Chapter 23. Happy reading.

C: See everyone at the ending author's notes.

* * *

Roses of Life

* * *

_"No, stop..." her voice managed to whimper in fear as she could feel someone's cold hands hold her head still, forcing a kiss onto her. Everything was dark and no noise could be heard beside her voice and the heavy panting of whoever was above her. Her hands were being held up by some kind of chain or rope and, no matter how hard she tried to pull to free her hands, they just bit into her skin and continued to bind her together._

_"Please..." she begged when her mouth was finally released. Tears were falling like a waterfall down her cheeks and she had to stifle a scream when she felt two hands slowly move from her face down to hold her neck. "Please let me go..."_

_"I'm afraid I can't do that," a cold voice whispered into her ear. "You are being held safe; far away from the Phantom. It is for your own protection, my dear." Suddenly, another pair of hands replaced the thing that was keeping her hands held up as Marcel's face appeared behind her. Looking up, she began sobbing, begging him to let her go as the thing still above her began to move lower. No matter how hard she tried to turn away, Marcel would just keep her firmly held down._

_"We must cleanse you of your sin, Christine," another voice said. It took her awhile to realize that it came from the body above her, but didn't have enough time to register who the voice came from when her dress was suddenly ripped away from her body, her flesh exposed to whoever happened to be watching. Again, she tried to turn away, but Marcel made sure that she didn't budge._

_"I have no sin," she spat, anger suddenly boiling inside of her at the words. However, her fighting spirit was soon lost when the darkness slipped away, and it was Raoul that was lying over her, his gaze raking across her nude body._

_"Oh, but you do," he whispered, a hand reaching out to touch her breast. "Tainted hands have, in turn, tainted you. You've let a monster inside you, and now we must let it out before this infectionous stain can spread." Pulling his hand away, Raoul reached up past her, taking a knife that Marcel was holding out to him as he calmly removed his shirt. Slowly, he slid the tip of the blade down from her neck to stop at her abdomen, the tip barely touching her flesh._

_Staring up at him with fear in her brown eyes, Christine tried to scream but found that she could no longer talk, let alone call out and beg for help. Raoul smiled wickedly down at her, insanity showing in his eyes so much that Christine shivered before he raised the knife. "It won't hurt, Christine," he promised. "I'll make sure that you forget anything that monster as ever done to you..."_

"No!" she screamed, sitting up from the bed. Christine's whole body was trembling violently and tears were falling down her face. A sudden crash was heard followed by hurried footsteps and, in a matter of moments, Erik was standing at the entrance into the bedroom staring worriedly at her. Panting, Christine tried to wipe away her tears as Erik walked up to her and hugged her tightly despite the fact her whole body was covered in sweat.

Clinging tightly onto him, Christine felt Erik wrap his arms around her and soothingly rubbed her back, one of his hands in her hair as he rested his head atop hers. "Shh, _ma ange_, what is wrong?" Erik whispered, quietly holding her against him. He could feel her trembling against him and he was greatly worried, but didn't know what had caused her to act in such a way.

But still, she didn't reply to him. Christine just continued to sob helplessly into his shirt, to much in some sort of shock to speak. Remaining silent, a slight understanding passed through him and he gently kissed the top of Christine's head. "Let's go home, _ma chérie_. No need to walk; I'll carry you," he said in a calming voice as he easily picked her up and stood from the bed.

Holding her close to him as her sobs began to quiet down, he gently kissed her forehead before he walked out of the bedroom and began to make his way down the dank passageway that would led them back to their welcoming cottage.

When they arrived inside the warm abode, Erik immediately brought Christine into their shared bedroom and placed her down on the bed. Though by the time they had come to the house her trembling and sobs had all but ceased, she still looked sickly and terrified. "Would you like something to drink?" he asked her quietly. Christine managed to weakly shake her head, not able to look him in the eyes as he held back before finally deciding to leave the room to do what he needed to.

Christine sat in silence, staring blankly at the floor as the memories of last night began to instantly fill her head. Almost immediately, Christine felt sick as she thought of what Marcel said and what Raoul did later. How he touched her and kissed her…

No longer able to stand it, Christine quickly ran into the nearby bathroom and emptied her stomach into the sink. God, she felt absolutely horrible.

Heaving again into the sink, she grasped her stomach in a weak attempt to stop but was unable to until there finally was nothing left to leave. Panting heavily, she fell to her knees on the floor as she rested her head against the edge of the sink. What was wrong with her?

"Christine?" Erik called out. She tried to reply, tried to say something, but all she could do was force herself to stand as her husband ran into the bathroom to look for her. Seeing how weak she was, he quickly strode up to her and bent down to her height. "What's wrong?" he demanded. But Christine shook her head, trying to push him away as she attempted to walk.

Growling slightly, Erik easily picked her up and brought her back to their bedroom before placing her down on the mattress. Sighing, Erik left her for a few short seconds and return with a large cup of tea. "Drink," he ordered, handing the cup to her. Nodding her head, Christine quickly brought the edge to her lip and drank down the warm liquid, letting it travel through her body.

As he watched her drink, Erik sighed again as she finally pulled the cup away, looking up at him with terrified brown eyes. "I'm worried about you…" he admitted, watching as she placed the cup down on the nearby side table. Moving closer, he gently kissed her forehead before brushing aside her hair. "But I just don't know what to do anymore."

Staring back up at him, she watched in silence as he moved his head down and brushed his lips against hers.

"No!" she screamed, pushing herself violently away from him. The sudden outburst caused her to accidentally slam herself against the wall and nearly tip over the cup. Erik simply stared at her, clearly confused with her reaction has her breathing became labored and she started shaking again. "I-I'm so sorry…" she whispered, her face flushing as she lifted her hand to cover her mouth. "I-I don't know w-what came o-o-over me."

Keeping silent, he studied her for a short moment before finally deciding to speak. "What happened last night, Christine?" he asked quietly. "You need to tell me."

"…Raoul…" she whispered. "W-When Marcel had me locked in the room h-he…h-h-he…" Christine's voice began to break and trail off, unable to continue talking as tears threatened to overcome her.

"What did he do, Christine?" Erik demanded, his voice deep and threatening as he thought of said man even being in the same room as his angel.

"H-He kissed me, Erik… And…and _touched_ me," she whispered, droplets of water now freely falling down her face as she wrapped her arms around herself, clearly trying to block out the memories as she began to quietly cry. "A-And he s-s-said that h-he'd make me fo-forget everything that you'd e-ever d-d-done to me—"

"Christine," he said, stopping her words for fear that she'd lose herself in them. As she stared fearfully up at her husband, he simply reached out and gently took her hand, not wanting to terrify her any more than she was already. "It's okay now, Christine. He's gone. He can't hurt us here."

"God, I wish it was that simple," she managed to say threw her tears as she moved forward and leaned completely into Erik's warm embrace. It seemed that this was the only time that she ever felt safe: in her husband's arms. To her, his embrace was warm and protecting; she knew that there was no way she could be harmed while in his arms. And it was now that she needed that comfort the most. "He was going to _rape_ me, Erik," she whispered, finally saying aloud the growing fear. "I was so terrified. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't move because he was holding me down and I couldn't scream. I was so scared, Erik—"

"I'm here now, Christine," Erik assured. "It's all going to be okay now. I won't let anyone hurt you."

"I know," she whispered. "I know, Erik. But I feel like I'm trapped. This morning I dreamt of him holding me down and…and doing what he had done to me before taking a knife and pointing it at my stomach. He was going to kill our baby and I couldn't scream for help and I was so petrified when I woke up."

"Shhh," he soothed, gently rocking her in hopes to somehow calm her down as he continued to hold on tightly to her. "It's fine now, darling. You're awake and I'll never let him touch you again." Holding her in silence, he continued rocking her until her sobs diminished and he looked down to see that she was nearly asleep. "Come on, Christine. I'll make you another cup of tea and I'll put in something to help you sleep so that you won't have to dream of him again, alright?" he asked her. When she nodded her head, he kissed the top of her head and gently pulled her away, leaning her against the plush pillows instead as he left to retrieve the medicine and drink.

By the time he returned to the room with the drink, Christine was beginning to doze off as she quietly waited for him. "Here you go, _ma ange_," he whispered, holding out the cup for her. Quietly thanking him, Christine drank a generous amount before setting it aside with the other one.

"How could you still call me that? I'm hardly an angel anymore…"

"Don't say that," Erik ordered softly. "You had no control over what he did to you. And trust me, he'll regret ever laying eyes on you in the first place."

"Erik, no…" she muttered, her words becoming slurred as the elixir began to take it's hold on her. "I don't want you killing _anybody_. I just got you back, love—"

"Alright, Christine," he quickly said, gently taking hold of her shoulders and carefully making her lay down. "I won't hurt him. Now sleep, _ma chérie_. Rest will prove to be the best healer." Leaning forward, he placed a soft kiss on her forehead and was about to leave the bedside but was stopped as Christine held him back. "What is it?"

"Kiss me," she said, staring at him through half-closed eyes. When Erik gaze her a questioning look, she propped herself up slightly. "I know that I freaked out before, but that's because I wasn't prepared for it. I want to forget, Erik. I don't want to remember his hands on my skin or his lips on min—"

"I know," he whispered, reaching up slightly to gently brush aside the chocolate curls framing her face. Her eyes were wide open now, looking up at him with a mixture of desperation and need. He hated how isolated she was clearly feeling, and he vowed to himself that he'd do whatever it took to help her recover.

Leaning forward, he tenderly pressed his lips against hers once again, bracing himself for any sort of violent reaction. But he ended up receiving the exact opposite this time around. Christine lifted both her arms and wrapped them around his neck, gently pulling him closer as she shyly slipped her tongue through his lips, brushing against his in the exchange. Erik was unable to hold back the small moan that escaped his lips.

Pulling away from him, Christine reached out for Erik hand and pressed it against her cheek, staring up into his emerald eyes as she could feel hers grow heavy from sleep. "I love you, Erik," she whispered.

"I love you too," he whispered, kissing her once again before watching her succumb to the potion and drift off into a deep, dreamless sleep.

* * *

"Why the hell couldn't Father just stay away from trouble for _one month_?" Anthony practically shouted at his sister as they both rode across from each other in the carriage. Aida rolled her eyes at him as she continued to stare out the window, admiring the scenery as her brother continued his ranting.

"I'm gone for a week and already he's on his _death bed_! _Mon Dieu_ this is ridiculous, Aida."

"It's not his fault he was shot, Anthony," she retorted, finally speaking in hopes to quiet him. "Besides, you're not so innocent yourself. Mother's been worried sick about where you've been and your young wife has been sulking about in her room, saying she has nothing to do here."

"I was out on business, Aida, I informed Felicity on this before I took my leave and left a note for Mother to read as well."

"Well, Mother still wasn't happy with it," she hissed. "The least you can do is come and help her look after Father." Waving his hand, Anthony dismissed her statement as he, too, turned to look out the window. The carriage was only a few minutes away from their home and very soon he'd have to follow his younger sister to their father's bed, where the old man laid wounded.

"What are we going to do if he dies?"

"Since you're finally married, the inheritance will pass onto you and Felicity. Mother will more than likely continue to live in the house as well as I until I can finally make up for all the times you scared away potential." Anthony smirked as he turned to face his sister.

"How are you and Monsieur Duval doing anyways, my dear?" he asked with a pleasant smile.

"It's none of your business, Anthony," she spat as the carriage finally came to a stop. Clearing her throat, the door was soon opened and Anthony stepped out first, holding out his hand for Aida once he was outside to help her.

Ignoring the offered hand, Aida stepped past her brother and walked up to the front doors and into the foyer, Anthony following close behind. Quickly giving her things to the butler that waited for them, she then scolded Anthony for being too slow before dragging him behind her up the stairs. Entering a long hallway located on the left of the house, the two siblings walked down it until they arrived in the last door in the hallway. Aida quietly knocked against the wood, waiting for some sort of noise indicating that they may enter.

Almost as soon as she pulled her hand away from the wood, Aida watched as the door was thrown open and their mother both stared at them, tears in her eyes. "What took you so long?" she demanded quietly, ushering them inside before closing the door behind them. As Anthony began to calmly explain what had taken them so long, Aida walked up to her father as he lay in bed and took his hand.

"Is he going to be alright?" she asked, turning to face her bickering mother and brother as she continued to hold her father's hand. Madeleine sighed before nodding her head.

"Yes, Aida, he'll be just fine so long as he rests. The gun shot wasn't too kind on him so he will have some trouble moving after this, but other than that he'll be fine." Smiling, she turned back to face him and saw that he was actually awake and chuckling. "D-Daddy?"

"Aida, my lovely child, it will take more than a gun shot to get rid of your old man," he assured, weakly reaching out and resting his hand against her cheek. "Now run along, darling. Both you and your mother should get to know the latest addition to the family. She's been locked up in her room all day and some fresh air would do her a world of good, I'm sure."

Nodding her head, Aida leaned forward and gently kissed his cheek before walking with her mother outside of the room and back in the direction she had come for. Marcel watched as the two women left before glancing at his only son and quietly telling him to close the door. When Anthony complied, Marcel beckoned him to sit down so that they may talk.

"Where have you been, Anthony?" Marcel asked when his son finally pulled up a chair beside the bed and sat down.

"Out traveling."

"I'm not playing around, son. Tell me where you were," he ordered, the words demanding despite how weak his voice sounded. Sighing, Anthony closed his eyes as he reached into his waistcoat and took out a small pile of papers and folders before placing them on the old man's covered lap. "What are these?"

"Remember before my wedding? How I was with you in your office? Well, while you were talking I was looking through some of the paperwork and found the files you kept on two suspects and the victim," Anthony explained as Marcel began shuffling through the papers, soon finding the exact photos his son was talking about.

"Why do you have such an interest all of a sudden? Never before had you bothered to learn about my business."

"I'll tell you why, Father," Anthony whispered, his eyes showing off his excitement as he took the papers and shuffled through a few before taking out one full of places and numbers. "After I saw the photo you had of Mademoiselle Daaé, I felt the strongest need to help you find her. The poor thing is most likely terrified and out of her _mind_!" Marcel stared at the papers before turning to his son in question. "I've spent the last week going to all the places you mentioned in your notes of investigating yourself. I want to help you with this case Father—"

"I won't allow you to," Marcel retorted. When his son stared at him, confused, he sighed heavily. "This is too dangerous for you. This _monster_ is too dangerous. It was him who shot me and killed two other guards last night," he explained. "You have a wife now, Anthony. This woman isn't one that you can just woo as you please like you do with all the others."

"No, Father, no," Anthony said hastily as he took the papers and replaced them in the pocket that they came from. "True, she is quite the beauty. But my pursuits are for a different matter entirely, I can assure you."

"Like what?" Marcel demanded. His son simply smiled as he fell silent in thought for a few minutes.

"Think about it, Father. If I could capture the elusive Phantom, we'd instantly go up in the social positioning. These murders are becoming so violent and is putting Paris in such a state of chaos that the King himself is beginning to get involved. Our family name would be renown world-wide and we'd go down in history!"

"So this is what it's all about? _Fame_?" Marcel scowled. "Honestly, you disappoint me, Anthony."

"Father, please listen to me—"

"Just go. Go and see your wife," Marcel hissed. Staring at him in shock, he nodded his head in silence before standing and heading towards the door. "Anthony…" He stopped, his hand holding onto the brass knob as he continued to stare at the door. "Promise me that you won't recklessly chase this damned monster."

"Of course, Father," Anthony whispered before opening the door and leaving the room.

* * *

E: Erik and Christine have a wonderful surprise for everyone!

C: Some information that you would all possibly like to know.

E: In the amount when it comes to word count, we've reached the status of one whole novel!

C: And, if you copy this whole story and put it in the font of Times New Roman and 12, the normal font for novels, it will reach a total of 196 pages from chapters one to twenty-two.

E: Amazing, _non? _Erik devotes so much of his time to his darlings. -smiles-

C: So I take it that you're feeling better now?

E: Very much so. However, I'm still a little disappointed in this chapter, so I apologize if it is not all that good. But besides that, Erik wants to keep this author's notes short so thank you all for reading.

C: Make sure to review on the chapter!

E: And tune in for the next exciting and suspense-filled episode (chapter) of Roses of Life!

C: Goodbye everyone.


	24. Fear and Lust

C: Everyone, Erik is mad.

E: Mad doesn't begin to describe what this is. I'm so frustrated and furious that I'm currently in my bed and throwing socks at my wall!

C: And, for once, I know why he is too.

E: Andrew Lloyd Webber has struck again people! Except this time, he is attacking the very Erik/Christine foundation and belief of all Phantom watchers everywhere!

C: Erik finally read the story plot for Love Never Dies, and he's not very happy with it. I'm assuming he's going to rant now, so if you do not wish to have it spoiled for you, please continue onto the chapter.

E: You were mad about it too, Christine! I'm not the only one here! God, this man has no respect for this story whatsoever! You all want to know what happens in the POTO sequel, Love Never Dies? Do you? Well I'll tell you this: MEG FALLS IN LOVE WITH ERIK AND KILLS CHRISTINE!

C: Oh my God, you used caps. *stares at the paper in horror* The grammar, _the grammar_!

E: I don't care. That's right Erik/Christine fans! Meg falls madly in love with Erik and when Christine _finally_ gets some brains and goes to New York to be with him, Meg _shoots her with a gun in front of Erik_!

C: Erik didn't have the heart to read the whole plot, because it upset him too much; he got as far as reading about other-Erik talking to an animatronic machine that he made to look just like Christine before he stopped. So, instead, he skipped to the ending and became absolutely furious. Might I _please_ include that it was by _accident_ that Meg did this!

E: *ignores* Might _I_ include that Christine has a child that is really Erik's and brings him with her to New York so that they could all become a family. And before Meg shoots her _best friend_, she tries to _drown him_! Someone please agree with me that this is COMPLETELY OUT OF CHARACTER FOR HER!

C: Yes, Erik, we _all_ agree, I'm sure. Now, please...please just go on with the chapter and you can finish your rant some other time.

E: No! People, do you not understand that 98% of phan phiction is being _attacked_? Andrew Lloyd Webber is attacking what we believe and destroying it with ruthless ambition. We, as phans, must take a stand against this atrocity! Rally the phan-troops! Light the torches and let us launch an attack on this dictator!

C: Erik, dear, might I please point out it was Andrew Lloyd Webber who created the 2004 version on Phantom and, without it, neither of us would currently be here.

E: That was when he was a kind and gentle ruler. Then he became corrupted by...something and has now become a tyrant. _Somebody has to end this madness_!

C: How about this: you rally the troops and I'll start up the chapter?

E: Fair enough. *does a cape way then runs off*

C: Everyone, please enjoy Chapter 24.

* * *

Roses of Life

* * *

_"Christine..." a deep voice called out. The voice was so haunting, entrancing, that she found herself turning to it as her world continued to remain in darkness. "Christine, _ma ange_..." A soft moan escaped her lips, though she was not sure whether it was from the way that this voice said her name or whether it was from how suddenly drowsy she felt. "Christine..."_

_"Yes...?" she managed to say. It was still strange though, her tongue felt almost like it was swollen, it was so hard for her to force any words out._

_"Wake up, my dear." Something was off. The voice was changing... "Wake, Christine, wake. Everything is fine now."_

_"What?" she managed to ask, trying to open her eyes but only finding that she was still surrounded in darkness._

_"Everything is fine now, darling. I'm here to protect you from the monster." _Oh God,_ she thought_, please not another dream. Dear God, please spare me._ A hand reached out from the darkness and covered her eyes before she could open them as she could feel the presence of a mouth move near her ear._

_"Wake up, and the nightmare will end."_

Screaming, Christine began thrashing about as strong hands continued to hold her down. "Christine!" the voice called out to her. It was different, far different from the one she heard earlier, but the same as before it changed. "Christine, look at me!" Forcing her eyes to open, she panted heavily as Erik looked down from above her. His breath was ragged and his mask was on, his green eyes staring into hers with deep worry.

"E-Erik?"

"Yes, _ma chérie_, it's me," he whispered, pulling away as he kneeled onto the floor next to the bedside. Reaching his gloved hand up, he brushed aside a curl plastered onto her pale face from sweat as he gently kissed her forehead. "Did you have another nightmare?" All she could do was nod her head as tears threatened to fall. Erik, sensing her distress, leaned forward and hugged her tightly. "It's okay now, Christine," he whispered as she wrapped her arms around him.

"Where were you?" she asked quietly, noticing how his cape was even on. It was odd for her, and she couldn't help but smile at the memories of it, despite the circumstances she currently found herself in.

"I went out to Madame Giry. I explained what happened to you and we both agreed to take you out somewhere so you can get some air and forget the incident," he explained. "She thought it would be a good idea to have a walk by the Seine for a bit, then go to a different opera house and see a play. I was hoping it might take your mind off things."

Nodding her head, Christine managed a small smile. "I would like that," she whispered. With slight sadness, she allowed her husband to let her go before he kissed her lightly on the lips and stood up, walking over to the armoire in their room. Watching him as he moved across the room, she noticed that heavy drapes covered the only window. "What time is it?"

"Dusk has left, if that's what you mean," Erik replied. "We would hardly be able to go at any other time. It is far too risky for the both of us. If we go now, we're a lot less likely to run into..._him_," he said, speaking the last word with such disgust and hatred that it caused a chill to fall down her spine. Silence fell between the two as Erik continued to look through her many dresses before pulling out a familiar white dress. "It's warm tonight, and I've haven't seen you wear this since the rehearsals of _Sophia_."

Smiling, Christine took the white dress covered with the red and ivory roses and began changing into it as Erik repeated the process of hiding his deformity. "How long have you been doing that?" she asked innocently.

"Just recently. Normally, I would go out into the dead of night and simply wear something high-collared with a scarf. But, since the rehearsal, I want to be able to freely roam about by your side. I'm experienced with costume makeup, so that's what I use," he explained before turning back to her after she finished dressed and sitting on the bed beside her. "I want to look...human...for you." A small, sad smile escaped Christine's lips as she reached up her hand and gently placed it on the marred side of his face, ignoring the makeup as she locked her eyes with his.

"Erik, you're more human than any other man I've met. You love me, unconditionally, and you prove it to me everyday too. You protect me, and understand me. You're caring and brave; what could possibly be any more human?"

"...I heard everything that day," he said, placing his large hand over her much smaller one. "When I noticed you missing from the foyer, I went looking for you and noticed that Raoul was taking you somewhere. I followed after him, and listened behind the door. And after I heard what that man said to you I..." His soft gaze turned into a glare as he clearly thought of what Marcel had said to Christine. "I wanted to run in there and kill him instantly. But I waited until I knew you were someplace safe, and then forced my way in to rescue you. And before that, I heard what you said about me, about how I was more of a man then any of them could ever be..."

"And I meant every word of it," Christine whispered, smiling at him as she leaned forward and gently kissed him. "I love you, Erik."

Smiling slightly, Erik whispered the same before standing up and walking over to her vanity and opening one of the many drawers. "I was hoping that I wouldn't ever have to do something like this, but after the unfortunate occasion, I don't want to risk anything with you," he explained as he lifted something black from the drawer and walked back over to her. Sitting down beside her once again, he held out a knife resting in its holster to show to her. "I promise that I'm not going to let you out of my sight, but this is for just in case," he stated. "I can't risk anything with you, _ma ange_."

"I understand," she whispered, reaching down and lifting up the skirts of the flowing dress so that her right thigh was bare. "Here's fine. The skirts hide it so it won't be noticeable." Nodding his head in agreement, Erik leaned down and placed the holder against her skin before he gently lifted her leg up and proceeded to tie it in place.

When the task was done, Erik found that his fingers lingered on her skin, barely touching the soft flesh as they slowly ran up her thigh to readjust the weapon. "Good?" he asked quietly, glancing upward to see his wife staring down at him through half-closed eyes, a fire seeming to blaze in them.

"Yes..." she muttered, feeling the strange warmth once again flood through her body and pool in her abdomen like it did the night when she and Erik were reunited. His emerald eyes seemed to look deeply into her own as her heartbeat quickened. Sometimes, it seemed like all he would ever have to do is stare at her like that and she would do his bidding.

Lifting himself up so that he was once again level with Christine, Erik closed his eyes as he felt her hands reach out and gently touch his face, her small fingers timidly exploring the contours of his face like it was the first time she had ever felt such a thing. Leaning his head into her touch, he soon felt her whole hand cupping his face, tilting it every so often as her fingers tangled within the midnight strands.

Studying his face, Christine stared in amazement, almost feeling like this was the first time she was truly seeing him. Despite the fact that he was wearing the make-up, she still found everything so _fascinating_. She found herself quickly taking everything in, like she would die without knowing every detail of how he looked.

Carefully taking her hands away from his face, she watched as Erik's eyes opened up to look into hers before his own hand reached out and began to do the same. Her brown eyes fell close as his rough skin brushed against hers, exploring just as she did, before they went behind her neck and brought her face forward until their lips met.

Almost instantly the kiss became passionate as Erik demanded dominance from her, gently pushing her back until she finally complied and was carefully lowered onto the mattress as Erik's tongue invaded her mouth, tasting her very essence as her arms wrapped around his neck, forcing him closer and demanding more. To this her husband seemed all too willing to comply as one of his hands left her neck and seductively traced the curve of her waist before slipping behind her back and lifting the small of it up, forcing her to hips to press into his covered manhood. Both of them moaned at the contact.

Letting out a small whimper of pleasure, Christine savored the feeling of Erik's hands on her. Of his strong, powerful body completely covering hers, of his feverish kisses. She was about to give herself completely up to this man in wanton ambition until Erik's large hands made their way to her legs.

Instantly, something clicked in her mind and the image of Raoul flashed before her eyes. Him forcing her down, holding her still, as he kissed her. Then, his hands moving all over her clothed body before they made contact with the bare skin of her legs...

"_Noooo_!" she screamed, violently pushing Erik off of her, using all the strength she had to scramble out of his grasp and to the safety of the open air. "No, no, no, _no_!" she repeated, the words slurring together as she wrapped her arms around her knees, bringing them up to her chest as she buried her face into her arms, trying to hide herself. Her sobs echoed throughout the room as she tried to shrink into the pillows, tried to escape the growing nightmare.

"Christine..." Erik called out gently. Jerking her head up, Christine stared at her husband, absolutely horrified as she realized what she had just done. "Christine, it's alright," he whispered, trying to sooth her. But the effort was for naught as she stood up and ran from the room. Following after her, Erik continued to call out to her but was stopped as she ran into the bathroom and slammed the door in his face. Before he even had time to realize what she had done, he could hear of the distinct sound of the door locking before quiet sobs floated through the door.

* * *

"Erik?" Sorelli called out, knocking once again on the wooden door. But still, no answer came. "Christine?" she tried, but only received the same answer as before. Sighing, she brushed back a stray hair before turning and walking towards the garden gate located to the side of the house. Though it was indeed rude to walk into someone's home without permission, she found herself too deeply worried to even bother with formalities such as that.

Earlier in the day, Erik had come to her and told her of his plan to take Christine out. He explained what had happened the night before, which Sorelli was more than grateful to hear that Christine was indeed in safe hands once again. However, news of the Vicomte and Marcel's handling of the girl while she was in such a delicate state caused fury to erupt in the woman. But she forced it down, instead agreeing with Erik that she would come to their house ten minutes before their appointed time to leave.

She had arrived at the house half an hour ago, and had spent the entire time knocking. "Damn it, Erik," she mumbled under her breath as she opened the gate and slipped past. Faintly, she could hear the sound of objects shattering and, fear starting to take over her, she lifted the skirts of her dress and ran the rest of the way to the only other door.

When she arrived at said door, she grabbed the handle and threw it opened, only to find it unoccupied. Looking around, she entered the kitchen area and waited for more sounds to tell her the location of where the couple was. She didn't have to wait long until she heard Erik's voice shouting.

Running to the source, Sorelli turned a corner and found Erik standing definitely before a closed door, leaning into the door's frame as he continued yelling, taking no notice of Sorelli's arrival. "Damn it, Christine, open this door!" he shouted once again before pausing, Sorelli could now hear Christine's sobbing, then reaching down to the knob. When it didn't turn, his face contorted in anger and he banged his fisted hand against the wood. "Christine, I will _force_ this door open if you do not unlock it!" he threatened, still pounding on the lumber in anger.

"Erik, stop," Sorelli said, finally revealing herself. "She's not going to come out if you keep doing that; she's probably frightened by this. Just try asking her nicely..."

"I already tried that-"

"Then try again," she hissed, watching him intently before he sighed in defeat.

"Christine...?" he called out gently. "Christine, please unlock the door. I'm not going to hurt you, love, I just want to help." He paused again, waiting, before reaching out to the brass knob and taking hold of it. Finding it still locked after he attempted to turn it, he pushed himself away from the door and kicked it. "Fine! Stay in there and _rot_ for all I care!" he yelled.

"Erik!"

"Sorelli, don't try my patience," he snapped, instantly turning on the woman. "I've been trying to get her out of the damned bathroom for nearly an hour now. If she won't come out, far be it from me to force her to do otherwise!"

"It's not her fault, Erik; you probably did something to frighten her-"

"_I did nothing_!" Erik roared, his green eyes staring into hers with unbridled fury. "If anyone is to blame, it's that damned _Vicomte_! I should have fucking killed him the moment I laid eyes on him, but I didn't. And, because of that, _look what has happened_! That man, that_ cursed monster, _tried to _rape my wife_!" Pushing past her, Sorelli listened as Erik stormed about in the other rooms, destroying what he could get his hands on to try and control his rage. More curses were shouted out before Sorelli could hear him walking, slam a door, then have fast-paced and anger-filled notes pervade the whole house. Sighing, she walked up to the door and gently knocked.

"Christine?" she called out.

"Is Erik still there?"

"No, my dear, he's left to calm himself. May I come in?" She paused, listening as she could hear the distinct sound of movement despite the loud music, then backed away and watched as Christine appeared in the doorway, her face red and stained from crying. Sighing, Sorelli walked up to Christine and held her close as she began sobbing once again. "What happened?"

"We were together," Christine said through her sobbing as Sorelli gently sat on the cold floor, allowing the younger woman to completely lean against her as she rubbed her back in a soothing manner. "And he was...above me. Things were…going fine until his hands touched my leg…"

"I understand…" Sorelli whispered, holding Christine close as the woman continued crying.

"I couldn't help it, Sorelli," she sobbed. "All I could think of was Raoul forcing himself on me, and I screamed. I felt so ashamed after I realized what I did, so I locked myself in here and refused to let Erik in."

"That probably wasn't your smartest decision," she noted quietly. Christine nodded her head in agreement, bringing her hand up to wipe away her tears before lifting herself slightly away from Madame Giry.

"I never meant for this to happen," Christine whispered. "And I wish I could take it back, but I can't. I wish I could just _disappear_—"

"Ssh, don't say that," she scolded. "You and Erik are together and in love, you have a child on the way, there is everything to live for."

"I'm sorry," she whispered in reply, wiping her eyes with her hands furiously before placing them both on her lap. "I just wish I could take back all the wrong I've done."

"You've done nothing wrong either. You did not ask for any of this to happen to you." Standing, Sorelli took hold of Christine's hands and helped her stand as well before walking with her back to her bedroom. "Come now, let's get you dressed. You have a big night ahead of you."

* * *

Awaking from what surely must have been a wonderful dream, Raoul groaned in annoyance as he rolled away from the other warm body sleeping beside him. "Raoul?" a gently voice called out before a dainty hand touched his shoulder.

"Not now, Antoinette," he snapped before turning completely over and hiding his head within the safety of his pillow. But still, her touches and words didn't cease. "_God dammit, woman, give me peace_!" he shouted, lifting himself up from the bed to glare at her. Antoinette visibly flinched, expecting to receive the back of his hand with the mood he was in.

"I-I'm sorry, R-Raoul," she stammered, clutching the thin blankets to her body for protection as her large green eyes stared up innocently into his brown ones. "I-I didn't mean to d-d-disturb you."

"Just leave," he ordered, reaching over the side of the bed and grabbed her dress before turning back and throwing it at her. "Dress and leave. I'm not in the mood for you now," he hissed. Nodding her head, Antoinette complied, though she looked like she was about to cry, and quickly left.

Running a hand through his long hair, Raoul sighed in frustration and collapsed onto the welcoming bedding. Before he had wakened, he was dreaming about Christine. Smirking, he remembered the night that he had last seen her. "My lovely Christine," he whispered, closing his eyes as he imagined her that night. How deliciously she fitted against him, the taste of her soft lips, and the feel of her smooth skin.

"God…" he whispered, slightly shivering from the pleasure of the memory. His mind wondered to all the things he could've done to her, all the pleasure he could have created, until that damned Phantom stole her away from him once again!

"Christine…" Raoul muttered. "My Christine. If only that man had not interrupted up, I could have shown you the true meaning of pleasure." A smile broke out across his face as he imagined the scene, feeling the lust pool in his groin as he thought of Christine's body enveloping his. "It will only be a matter of time until you are mine again."

* * *

C: Hello everyone, how are you all doing? I'm sorry to inform you that Erik cannot join us for the ending author's notes today. He's driven himself quite past his breaking point so I sent him off to strict bed rest. So instead, as a first on this phanphiction, Meg has so kindly offered to join.

M: Hello. *smiles warmly* I'm so glad I could come with you here, Christine. I read what Erik said about the new sequel in the beginning author's notes...

C: Don't worry, Meg, I know you would never shoot me or try to drown my child beforehand in a jealous rage because Erik won me back. However, I'm sure Erik will not approve of the whole Erik/Meg aspect of the story.

M: Oh yes, that'll definitely make the shippers happy.

C: *turns grim* Once you get them started, they come in for the kill...

M: Yes...

C: So, since it's all out now, how's the baby?

M: Oh, he's doing just wonderful. Hasn't complained a bit. And your little Jolee?

C: Erik's getting anxious. I'm sure that he'll be very relieved once she's born.

*_crash, slam, shouting of curses_*

M: Oh dear...

*_Erik appears in doorway to Author's Notes Studios_*

C: What the hell are you doing up? You exhausted yourself with writing this chapter, losing sleep, and rallying your stuffed animals and fans to take down ALW, you shouldn't be up!

M: He's lost it...

C: *turns to Meg* What else is new?

E: *stumbling around* My beloved phans! Erik has a request.

C: If you ask this request, will you stay out of the author's notes?

E: Yes...

C: Then go ahead.

E: Okay. *ahem* Erik is desperate for a phanphic. And a _good_ one too! So, if my readers have any Erik/Christine that they read that is _completed_ and is at least funny or a total romance, please send in the names of both story and author. Hell, send in parodies so I can at least have a good laugh!

C: Erik sent me a text a while ago saying he got so desperate finding a phanphic that he started reading an Erik/Meg one and he lost it, again, when he read about Erik praying.

E: That author crossed the damn line! Even in real life I'm agnostic; I don't believe in no God crap. That's why I can say goddamnit and not feel the least bit guilty.

M: We all know you have a sailor's tongue, there's no need to remind us.

E: *ignores* That is all my readers. *stalks off to a dark room to sleep for about twenty days*

C: *sighs* Thank God that's over now. He needs to sleep.

M: You said that he was editing once...?

C: Oh yes! *turns to TV monitor, beaming show to all phans reading* Everyone, Erik has been editing every chapter up to this one. We had a conversation over the phone once and he realized he completely screwed up the time passing when it comes to the months. The story here starts in February and is currently in June. So it starts in winter and is up to summer.

M: Erik thought it was still winter, just becoming spring. He started it in January and had it up to March.

C: So Erik screwed up big time. Then he realized that he never explained the opera being fixed, which is awkward considering he had an opera performed. So there might be drastic changes to some chapters.

M: And afterwards, any changes should just be for editorial reasons.

C: Also, concerning this chapter, Erik promised me that this should be the last piece of major angst going on for awhile. I personally hate abuse and rape, but he insists on it. Something about needed for distancing and such. Wasn't paying too much attention. Now, that should be everything.

M: Yes. How about you do the honors?

C: *smiles* Don't I always? Everyone, thank you for reading Chapter 24.

M: Please, please, _please_ review!

C: And we'll see our regulars and hopefully some new people as well next chapter!

C and M: Goodbye everyone!


	25. A Walk Along the Seine

E: Why am I the only one that seems to notice this?

C: Notice what, dear?

E: Character descriptions. People have the Phantom stories under the movie version, yet they make the characters look different.

C: To be blunt, I don't even understand why it matters. It's their stories, they can do whatever they like with it.

E: But it _bothers_ me! In almost every phanfiction I read, Christine has blue eyes. Brown eyes in movie. Erik has amber eyes, emerald in movie.

C: I repeat: _why_ does it _matter_?

E: _Because_ it's not the look of the characters in the _movie_! Like Meg! She's always described as a girl with strawberry blonde hair. I don't know if the definition has changed, but she does _not_ have strawberry blonde hair. How do I know? Because _I do_!

C: Good God, Erik, no one wants to hear it. You're obviously still upset over the _Love Never Dies_ thing.

E: I am not! *attempts to hide slashed poster announcing the new play*

C: _Really_?

E: ...Everyone, please enjoy Chapter 25. I'll see everyone at the ending author's notes.

* * *

Roses of Life

* * *

The moon was full that night. It's bright, yet soft rays fell down upon Paris and danced along in the lamplight as people walked along beside it, basking in the glow. Christine was one of these people taking enjoyment in the night's air and the gentle light, yet did so with a heavy heart. Her love, her husband, was not with her and the emptiness she felt from it was nearly too much to bear. She hadn't realized it before, having hardly a moment away from him, but she truly felt isolated when away from Erik. The realization came upon her in the month and a half that he disappeared, but this night simply brought more truth to the statement. True, Erik could be hard to deal with for some. He was short-tempered and would, at times, resort to violence for the answer, as well as be quite reserved and intimidating. But, despite all of his flaws, Christine could only see good in her husband. In the way he tenderly cared for her every need, in how he would talk to his unborn child every night, and especially in how he protected her and proved, time and time again, of his undying love.

But she had hurt him, and made the wound very deep and painful. When he had tried to help her, tried to show her that their love could overcome the obstacle she had been presented with, she screamed and turned away. She ran from him as he tried to comfort her, and hid away when he attempted to calm her. Christine knew she had deserved his fury, but was too ashamed of her actions to allow him in. And as he begged and pleaded, she ignored the words, too afraid of seeing nothing but disgust and loathing when she looked into his emerald eyes. She was impure, she had been soiled by a person that she had once loved but now realized was nothing more than a deep liking, possibly caring, but never a love interest. However, that caring feel now turned to a deep hatred. Christine loved Raoul at one point, yes, but she was not _in_ love with him in the same sense she was with Erik.

Except now, she had turned that love away...

"Christine?" Sorelli asked, noticing the girl's troubled expression as she seemed to be staring at nothing. "Are you alright? You look unwell..."

"I'm fine, Madame Giry," Christine said quickly, trying to smooth over the older woman's worries with a pleasant smile. Both of them were sitting across from each other outside of a small café. A small dinner was placed before both of them, and Christine had been picking at the food since it had been placed down before her. "Aren't you worried that Marcel will have people looking after me?" she asked, keeping her voice low.

"I don't think we need to worry about that. If Marcel is anything like I've come to realize, he'd rather not create a scene about it and force you to go into hiding again. It'd just be more trouble for him," she explained before glancing down to Christine's plate. "Eat up. It's not just you who you need to think about." Giving a nervous laugh, Christine picked up her fork and began to nibble on a few bits of food before she placed the fork back down. Sighing, Sorelli reached her hand out across the table and gently rested it over Christine's. "Something's troubling you; I can tell..."

"Oh, Sorelli," Christine sighed. "I just feel so horrible. The way I treated Erik... I don't deserve his love..."

"Don't say that," Sorelli scolded, squeezing Christine's hand as she spoke. "Christine, my dear, listen to me. Erik is madly in love with you, sometimes even in the literal sense." The younger woman giggled slightly, her mood lightening up slightly from the caring and honest way Sorelli spoke to her. "What happened was not your fault. It is a completely natural reaction for any person that had to go through what you did." Smiling slightly, Madame Giry retracted her hand and placed it calmly on the table before continuing. "You _will_ get through this, Christine. And we _will_ help you."

"I feel like I've hurt him," she admitted. "Like I threw his love away."

"Christine, you need to stop thinking in such a way," Sorelli said sternly. "You did not hurt him, or throw away all that he has given you. He is upset only because he did not know what to do or how to react with what happened." Taking her napkin out from her lap where it was resting, she carefully folded it before placing it over her empty plate. "He loves you, Christine. And he always will, no matter what happens to you."

Standing up, Christine placed her napkin also over her filled plate before she stepped away from her chair. "I believe that Meg will be waiting up for you. Don't worry, Sorelli, I know how to get home myself." Not bothering to wait for an answer, Christine quickly turned heel and left the area, not sure where she was heading. All she could do was walk; she didn't trust herself enough to think about where to go.

With the wind pushing her along, Christine's soft footsteps walked along the cobblestones as she wandered through Paris. Her thoughts preoccupied her as she continued moving through the empty streets. "Is something troubling you?" a woman's aged voice asked, causing Christine to wake from her daydreaming.

"Pardon?" she asked. Her movements had stopped, and she noticed, from the corner of her eyes, the water bouncing off the moon rays. She had walked all the way to the river while in her trance.

"Is something on your mind?" the elderly woman tried again.

"No, nothing," Christine answered quickly. She didn't like the feeling around this woman, almost as if she was being watched carefully the whole time she talked. "It just seems that I've lost my way."

"In what way?" the woman asked. Christine remained silent, unsure how to respond. "Excuse me if I seem intruding, but it seems that you've lost yourself several different ways. Tell me about it?"

Glancing nervously at the woman, Christine soon let out an exhausted sigh before walking over to a nearby wooden bench and sitting down beside the woman. "I've done something horrible to the person I love the most," she explained, leaning forward to bury her head in her hands as she closed her brown eyes.

"Surely it cannot be as horrible as you make it out to be," the woman insisted, reaching forward to gently pat Christine's shoulder.

"But it is..." she groaned. "Something happened between me and another man, something that I wish I could take back." Turning to face the woman, she couldn't help but giggle slightly as her shocked expression. "I did nothing wrong with the man, it was what he had done to me," she quickly explained with a sad smile. "But it doesn't really matter now. I incident left me terrified to let anyone touch me, and my husband did not realize this, I think. We were together, and the next thing I knew I was screaming and crying and..." A pause. "I'm sorry, this must be awfully boring. I don't even know why I'm talking about it."

"No, no, dear, it's fine," the older woman said with a kind, understanding smile. "I have a daughter a little older than you, and I was once your age too. I know what it must be like to go through so much trauma. So really, it's no trouble."

"Thank you..." she breathed. "I just... I don't know how to forgive myself. I feel like everything is completely my fault, even if it isn't."

"Well, don't do that," the woman whispered. "Listen to me, dear. No matter what will come your way, the people who love you will always be with you. Times will be rough, but you'll always get through them. I'm sure that your husband will understand, soon enough, that now is a time for healing. And I'm sure that he will help you along."

"That does sound like something Erik would do," Christine whispered, her voice slightly dreamy as her hand drifted down to rest on her swollen stomach. Turning to look up at the woman, she noticed a slight look of panic about her aged features, but it quickly disappeared as soon as the woman realized Christine noticed the gesture.

"You're with child? _Félicitations_," she noted warmly. Christine smiled as she gently rubbed her stomach and thought of her and Erik's unborn daughter.

"Yes. We're expecting a girl," she explained, watching as the elderly woman carefully stood up from her seat. "Leaving?"

"I've a family waiting for me as well. My son just arrived home from traveling and my husband has not been well." Reaching out her knotted hand, the woman's fingers took hold of a stray curl on Christine's face and studied it. "It seems like I've seen you before, dear..."

"I haven't a clue where," she admitted before the woman nodded her agreement. "Thank you, Madame...?"

"Oh, you don't need to know that," the woman said with a hearty laugh. "I'm sure that we will meet again in the near future. I hope you fix what you want to soon." With her best wishes, the mystery woman soon walked along the dock and eventually became swallowed up in the darkness with everything else. Sighing, Christine stood from her seat as well and began walking by the water, glancing every so often down at her reflection. Inside she was hoping, praying, that she would see what she wanted to in the glass-like water. But every glimpse proved to be a disappointment as she continued to see herself standing alone.

"Erik..." she sighed wistfully, unable to help herself as her mind wandered to her husband. Perhaps it was time to return home, time to face her fears and pray for forgiveness for what she had done. Taking a deep breath, she looked deep inside herself for inner strength before turning around and beginning her way back home.

* * *

God, he would never forgive himself if something happened to her again. Christine had been gone with Madame Giry well over four hours and when the woman stopped by to see if Christine had made her way back home, it almost threw him into a fury to learn that she was missing...again.

"Where are you, Christine?" he muttered under his breath, stalking about the small house in search of her, somehow hoping that he would magically find her curled away in the covers of their bed or out in the garden. Of course, deep inside he knew that she was no where to be found, but it certainly didn't stop him in the least. Then again, why should he worry? Christine knew how to take care of herself, she could be quite stubborn when she wanted to be as well as make herself more than a handful when it mattered. This he knew of on a personal level. Plus, with the added protection of the hidden knife, she should be more than safe.

But still, an unsettling feeling lodged itself in the back of his mind and refused to leave. As he paced about the house, all he could do was think of her. Of Christine being forced against a filthy wall in an abandoned alleyway as a complete stranger forced himself on her. Or of his innocent wife begging for her life as a crazed man prepared to gut her. His mind flashed to the image of his beautiful lover, her corpse curled up onto the ground in a pool of blood as a petty thief made off with his latest victory.

The very thought of it drove him to near insanity.

No longer able to wait around anymore, Erik quickly moved through the house and grabbed his mask and placed it over his face before grabbing hold of his cape and fixing it around his shoulders as he quickly made his way towards the front door. Finally hooking it safely onto his body, his large hands grabbed hold of the brass knob and twisted it before forcefully opening the door. However, instead of immediately running out of the house in search of his missing companion, he stood still as he looked down at the very same woman who he had believed to be in mortal danger.

Though the sight of her face smiling shyly up at him nearly caused him to break into tears and tightly embrace her, seeing her caused something completely opposite to arise as well. "Where the _hell_ have you been?" he demanded, grabbing hold of her shoulders and squeezing them tightly, greatly tempted to shake her. "I have been standing around here, wondering where the _hell_ you disappeared off to! _Mon Dieu_, you nearly gave me a heart attack when Sorelli came here to see if you had returned safely!"

Christine remained silent at his words, which only increased his rage. "_Answer me, damn it!_"

"I'm sorry," she finally whispered. Erik stared at her, completely dumbfounded to say the least. She had disappeared, _again_, and when she finally returned all she had to say for it was 'I'm sorry'?

Growling from irritation, Erik let go of her and turned heel into the house. He quickly moved away from her, ignoring her cries for him to stop as he moved further into the house. "Erik! Erik, please wait!"

"_Why should I_?" he demanded, instantly turning on her. He could easily see her eyes goes wide with fear at his temperament, but she quickly hid it and stared at him with an equal look about her. Erik couldn't hold back his smirk; it was clear she was refusing to show him any weakness.

"Because I am your _wife_, and as such I am entitled to my own say!" she retorted in the same angered tone he had used with her moments ago. "Erik, I'm sorry that I had disappeared, but I was unable to face you anytime soon after the problem I had caused. I was... scared."

"Scared of what? You've known of my temperament for a long time, Christine. Have you finally realized that it was far too much for you to handle?" he accused.

"No, that's not it, Erik," she replied coolly, making sure to keep her own temper in check. "I didn't want to see you again, after what I had done to you-"

"So I see the young Mademoiselle Daaé has finally seen the monster she has married? Does it sicken you to know you're carrying my child?" Erik challenged. Instead of getting the reaction he was expecting, Christine glared at him fiercely before she fell into a fuming silence. He only smirked again in response. What did it matter anymore, she obviously didn't care to be in his presence anymore.

"Listen to me, Erik," Christine whispered, her voice low and deadly. It reminded Erik of a snake, stalking it prey. "I don't know what you believe I'm thinking, but whatever it is, it is _wrong_. I have not, nor will I ever, married a monster or regretted carrying his child."

"Then what is it, Christine?" Erik inquired, a disturbed smile placed upon his face. "What has you so terrified that you are going out of your way to avoid me?"

"_I am here right now, am I not_?" she yelled, panting as the wrath in her continued to grow. How could Erik say such careless words? "I did not come and have avoided you because I do not want to see _hate_ and an absolute _loathing_ in your face. After all, I've been _tainted_, _non_? I am not the angel that you once knew!" Though she could feel the tears stinging in her eyes, she continued onward. "And not only that, but I have thrown the love, care, and understanding you gave me back at you! It is not my fault that I reacted in such a way, but I could not bear to see you hurt because of my _foolishness_!" Before any more could be said, Christine picked up the skirts of her dress and walked right past her stunned husband, storming into their bedroom before slamming the door loudly.

Standing perfectly still, she waited until she was sure that he wasn't going to follow before running to their bed and collapsing upon it, finally allowing herself to succumb to the storm raging inside her.

* * *

Though sleep was still desperately trying to overcome her, Christine was awake as she heard the bedroom door quietly open. The soft padding of Erik's footsteps followed after, and she quickly closed to her eyes to pretend that she had indeed fallen into sleep's trap. A heavy weight was soon felt beside her, and then Erik's gentle touch brushed aside her brown curls as she could feel the warmth of his body close beside her. "Christine?" he whispered. She pretended to stir, wanting to hear exactly what he had to say. Slowly opening her brown eyes, she glanced up at him before looking away in indifference.

"I know," he muttered quietly, pulling back the mass of chocolate curls away from her face and neck before reaching over and turning her face to look at him. Her eyes still refused to meet his. "I don't deserve you, Christine," he admitted, studying her face as he ignored her attempts at turning away. "You've done so much, and ask for so little..."

"I'm sorry for today," Erik said, keeping his voice low as if he was afraid he would terrify her if he did otherwise, "and for how I acted. For the things I said to you, accused you of..." Deciding to glance at him, her eyes flicked over and tried to return, but were quickly caught in his molten gaze. "Christine, listen to me," he mumbled. "No matter what that _pathetic_ excuse of a human being did to you, I don't think of _you_ any less. I am sorry that I frightened you, and I feel horrible with the thoughtless way I reacted. I hope you can forgive me," he said before removing his hand from her face and beginning to stand.

Preparing to leave the bed and, ultimately, the room, Erik was stopped by Christine's arms that wrapped tightly around his neck and her soft lips against his. Though the kiss was chaste and brief, a silent understanding passed between the two and Erik gave her an apologetic smile before laying her back down into the pillows and blankets. True, the both of them knew that there would be a fair amount of complications waiting for them in the future, but with each other it was possible to move on and forget. Possibly even forgive.

"_Je t'aime tant_, Christine," he whispered softly into her ear before laying beside her. It was a matter of moments before both of them drifted off into sleep.

* * *

C: Awww, that was sweet, Erik. I'm glad you made them make up like that.

E: *muttering once again in _Corner of Depressed Writers_ to self*

C: ...What the _hell_ could it possibly be this time! What?

E: *mumbling to self* I am a good writer. Erik is a very good writer.

C: Dear Lord, not this again. *grabs bottle of water resting on desk and pours it over Erik* _Get a hold of yourself!_

E: Erik is a good writer, Christine! *sobs*

C: What new hell is this, I wonder?

E: Erik has been depressed. Every time he sees a phantom story that is complete, it always is at least 50 chapters and 500 reviews, and it makes him _sad_!

C: *exhausted sigh* Why does it make Erik sad?

E: Because Erik worries that people don't like his story. Erik wants to be a writer someday, and it worries him that his stories aren't worth reading.

C: You have people reading this story right now, don't you?

E: _But most people just click it and don't read it!_ *runs further into _Corner of Depressed Writers_ and begins to sob* Erik wants to create one of those stories that thousands of people read and absolutely love!

C: _That's the exact same with this story; what the hell is wrong with you_!

E: *whines* It's not the same!

C: *takes deep breath and thinks calming thoughts* Okay, let's try this differently. How long does Erik think this story is going to end up?

E: *instantly stops crying* Well, seeing as you and I planned for Christine to have more than one kid, plus the first child is going to have to grow up, I'm estimating somewhere around 70 or more chapters.

C: _Then you will likely have more than 500 reviews by then_!

E: But one story had over 1,000, Christine!

C: Suck up your stupid jealousy, then, and just work on your story.

E: But I can't stop thinking about it!

C: That's it, no more reading fanfiction for you! You get way too jealous and way too much for me to deal with. Go back to your stupid emo corner and write the next chapter.

E: It is not an emo corner! *grabs laptop and goes into _Corner_ anyways to type*

C: God, that was ridiculous. Everyone, please review on the chapter, as always requested. We hope to see everyone next chapter.


	26. Jolee

E: *struggles to drag myself out of the dark _Corner of Depressed Writers_* Hello again, my lovely fans! Erik has a special guest for you all! Please help me welcome... my sibling! *presses button to make fake audience clap*

B: *glances over* I feel so very _loved_.

E: Yes, yes, I know, I know. I'm just too wonderful for words.

B: Definitely...

C: Well, I'm glad to see that you finally got out of that stupid corner.

E: Well, it was either that or face the wrath of my very hormonal and pregnant wife, and I figured I would have a better chance of surviving if I came out here.

C: ...Excuse me?

B: Oh, God, please don't fight!

E: And why the hell not?

B: ...'Cause... Well, you've been doing it since the first author's notes, so doesn't it seem a little... I don't know, tiring?

E: Do you want me to make love to my wife in front of the innocent watchers? Shame, sister, I want to save that for the actual story...

B: Oh, God, Erik (can't believe you're even forcing me to call you that) get a life! Why am I even here?

E: Because I grew bored while on vacation and since Christine has taken the liberty of ignoring my continuous stalking/texting, I dragged you into this.

C: Ummm... I'm right here, Erik.

E: Shush, Christine, Daddy's talking.

C: ...

B: *ignores what Erik is ranting about now* So how are you doing, Christine?

C: *goes along with it* I'm just fine, actually. The baby's coming _real_ soon, so I'm getting a little anxious.

E: Hey guys...?

B: Oh really? So how is this chapter going to work out, exactly?

E: Don't ignore me... *eyes well up with tears*

C: Well, we're having a huge time skip going on. I'm pretty sure the writer here-

E: Who is named Erik and is _still here_!

C: -will explain it.

B: Well that's exciting! Do you mind...?

C: No, go ahead.

E: Hey! No, that's my job-

B: Everyone, please enjoy Chapter 26.

~0~

Roses of Life

~0~

"How're you doing?" Erik's deep voice asked quietly, the sound floating through the oak door. Christine smiled warmly as she watched the brass knob that belonged to the bathroom door turn, allowing it to open and reveal her husband who stood on the other side. When the wood was completely opened, Erik stepped inside and walked up to his wife as she lay in the tub, warm water almost surrounding her body completely. The top of her swollen stomach peaked above the liquid and she rubbed it in a loving manner as her husband kneeled down beside her.

"We're just fine, Erik," Christine assured, kissing his cheek before leaning further into the water. Her movement caused the water to ripple, and Christine watched the small waves with fascination before Erik's cool hand pressed against her exposed belly, close to Christine's own hands.

"It'll be soon, won't it?" he stated. His rough hands ran over the soft skin under them, and Christine closed her eyes as she thought of the idea. Indeed, it wouldn't be very much longer until their child arrived in the world to join them. The thought of it both frightened and excited her. "Come now," Erik said, his voice jolting her from her thoughts as she realized his touch had moved from her stomach to her back, "Sorelli will be here any moment, and we certainly can't have you soaking wet when you greet her." Laughing, Christine nodded her agreement before reluctantly standing up from the tub. As Erik helped her out of the bathwater and into a new dress, she recalled the news of Meg's own child.

It was a boy, and Meg had decided to name him Yevon. The name meant 'archer' and the two friends had both agreed that it would be a fine name for what they hoped to be a strong boy. Meg had finally decided upon the name after seeing her son and the already apparent spirit of a fighter. Though he was born prematurely, he had been expected around the time of Christine's child, he was already lively and active.

"Christine?" a voice asked her patiently. Blinking, Christine nodded her head, clearing herself from the distracting thoughts, and looked around the new surroundings. She was now currently located in the kitchen and Erik was gently guiding her to a pulled-out chair. "Christine, Sorelli will be here any moment now, okay? Do you need anything, _ma chérie_?" Christine couldn't help but show her excited smile as she placed her hand over her abdomen once again.

"No, I'm fine," she replied before feeling her stomach move from inside her. Her face instantly lit up as she turned to her husband. "Erik, the baby's kicking again!" Instantly at her side, Erik fell to his knees and pressed both his hand and face against the swell of her clothed stomach. He could easily feel his child's feet pressing against it's home and he broke out into a wide grin.

"Be patient, Jolee. You'll be out of there before you know it," he whispered to her stomach, pressing his lips against it in a soft kiss. Christine simply smiled down at him, touched at the scene, as her own hand was resting over his.

"Hurry up, Jolee!"

"Now, now," Erik scolded playfully, "don't rush her, love." Gently kissing her stomach once again, he lifted himself up from the ground and brushed aside the wet locks before kissing his wife's forehead. "I'll be right back, alright, Christine? Call for me if you need _anything_," he said before turning around and walking out of the kitchen. When Christine was sure that he had left, she leaned fully back into the chair, a dreamy sigh escaping her lips as she allowed her mind to wander.

Her eyes looked around the room, trying to find something to focus on, before she finally spotted the window leading outside into the garden. The whole area was covered in a light blanket of snow, and she smiled. So much had happened since she learned of her pregnancy nine months ago, and it seemed like everything had just rushed by her, almost as if she was in a dream-like state the whole time. Events passed by her, like pictures being flashed, as she thought of the time leading up to where she currently was: her and Erik's blissful wedding, watching him every night as he sung gentle lullabies to their unborn child, and even being reunited with him after weeks of isolation.

But, of course, there were still haunting memories that plagued her dreams and followed her around even in broad daylight. Even though it had happened months ago, Christine was still disturbed by the memory of Raoul forcing himself onto her, and even more so with the way her and Erik had reacted to it. At first, she shied away from her husband, too afraid of how he would think of her to allow him to get close. But, after she had disappeared with Sorelli and talked to a mysterious woman, Christine returned to her home and was immediately confronted by Erik. They fought, which Christine had expected, and many words were passed from one to the other in their raised voices. Eventually, Christine told him of her true feelings about the situation before leaving him to stand alone in the room as she took refuge in their bedroom.

Though Erik apologized late into the night, and though Christine had forgiven him, the young brunette still was fearful. She become even more reluctant to leave the safety of their cottage and surrounding area, fearing an encounter with the man that had, without a doubt, put her through hell. And, much to her relief, Erik agreed with her on the notion. He had stated that, along with the threat of Raoul, she had to start taking better care of herself since she was becoming far along with her child. So, to him, the ability to keep a constant watch over her was ideal.

And now, here she was, patiently awaiting the return of her husband and the arrival of her child.

"Oh, Jolee," she whispered quietly, leaning forward slightly so as to whisper to her. "I cannot wait until you get here. I'm becoming so excited that I fear I might lose myself in it!" Feeling a kick against her palm in response, she smiled warmly before straightening out and closing her eyes. Things really were starting to seem like a complete dream, everything going by so quickly that it hardly seemed like everything she went through had truly happened.

But now was not the time for such thoughts. Time had gone by, from the pregnancy in spring to the cold winter nine months later, and their was nothing that she could do to change anything. Not that she wanted anything to change to begin with.

Sighing in contentment, Christine opened her brown eyes to continue watch the snow fall outside the window. However, it was while she did this she began to feel the oddest sensation...

~0~

"Erik," his angel's voice called out. Said man sighed, wondering what Christine would want to eat for the night. Her choice was different everyday, the cravings never staying in one place. Thus was the reason why he was out in the cold weather, bent over a tilled bed as he set up a blanket to protect the grown food from the light snow before he was ready to gather them. Tightening the knot on one of the sticks that kept the blanket propped up, Erik then stood to his full height as he surveyed his work.

"_Erik_!" Christine called out again, her voice more desperate than last. It was clear that she was in a great deal of pain, and Erik didn't need to hear his name being called again to bolt into the kitchen and run up to his wife, currently bent over her stomach in an attempt to cope with the pain. Reaching his hands out, he managed to pull her into a somewhat upright position so that he could see what was wrong. Almost instantly, he spotted a dark stain on the dress he had placed in her but moments ago and panic immediately filled him. He knew what was happening and, as he picked up his panting wife, wondered where the hell Sorelli was.

"The baby's coming; where's Sorelli?" Christine asked breathlessly, speaking aloud his own questions.

"She'll be coming soon, Christine," he said, reassuring her as he carried her toward their bedroom and gently placed her down on the bed. "Just...Just breathe, Christine," he instructed. "I promise I won't let anything happen to you." Christine furiously nodded her head, doing as told as she leaned over again, clutching her stomach so tightly that her knuckles were beginning to turn white.

"Erik, it hurts," Christine moaned, clenching her jaw as a contraction hit. Her abdomen seared with pain and her vision wavered slightly. As it passed, she removed her hands from her stomach and wrapped them around Erik's neck, breathing heavily. The pain was beginning to grow, and she only wondered with fear how much more it would hurt.

"Do what Sorelli told you," he said, "those breathing exercises." Though he had already told her to do so, he was at a loss on what to do as Christine began screaming, another contraction hitting her hard. As he held gently onto her, whispering soothing and encouraging words into her ear, he wondered what was keeping the woman so long.

~0~

Sorelli entered the quiet room, gazing upon her daughter as she carefully held onto her sleeping son. "Would you like to come with me to Christine's?" the woman asked Meg, remaining in the doorway.

"I'd love to," she said, her voice happy and light as she readjusted her hold on the baby. "Just let me get Yevon ready before we go." Nodding in agreement, Sorelli left the door's entrance as Meg stood up from the rocking chair she had been resting in and gently placed Yevon into his crib. Walking to the small bureau placed off to the opposite wall, she opened one of the drawers and shifted through it's contents before finding a warm blanket. Grabbing it and pulling I out, she then walked to the rocking chair and quickly placing it over the wood as she reached down into the crib and picked up her sleeping child.

"Come along, Yevon," she whispered, gently kissing the top of his head as she swaddled the babe. "We're going to see Christine now, dear."

"Meg!" Madame Giry called out, returning to the door with Meg's coat in hand. "Hurry along now, we're going to be late." Quickly placing the coat onto her body, Meg followed closely after her mother, huddling her son close so that it would fight off the cold, and continued to do so until they arrived at the opera house.

It didn't take them long until they moved through the backstage and into the labyrinth underneath, then out onto the open field that held the cottage the expecting couple lived in. "Has Christine's baby come yet?" Meg asked as the two women stopped, looking over Yevon to see that he was still warm.

"No, but it'll be any day now," Sorelli said as she fussed over her grandson, tucking the blanket tightly around him as her daughter smiled. However, as she kissed the top of his head the small child began fussing, something both woman had grown quite unaccustomed to.

Hearing a painful scream echo throughout the field, Meg glanced at her mother and began running towards the house with her, only the thought of Christine in pain on both their minds. When they arrived at the front door, Sorelli threw it open only to be greeted by Christine's painful cries. "Sorelli?" Erik called out, his voice loud enough to be heard over the cries. "Is that you?"

Running towards the source of the man's words and the woman's sobs, Sorelli threw open the door to the bedroom and frowned slightly upon the sight of Erik desperately holding Christine, trying to take her mind off the pain. "She's in a lot of pain," Erik explained, looking up to the older woman as he held his crying wife close. "I don't know what to do! I can't stand seeing her like this."

"She's in labor; it's suppose to be painful. There's nothing you can do. Now let her go for now," she explained, trying to remain calm since it seemed the other adult in here clearly had no intention of doing so.

"Isn't there _anything_ I can do?" he asked, ignoring the woman's orders.

"No," she said forcefully. "Now let her go." Looking down at his wife, Erik reluctantly lowered her back down onto the mattress, having been slightly holding her the whole time in an attempt to comfort her, and moved back slightly. His presence was quickly replaced by the ballet mistress as she whispered a few calming words to the woman before moving down the bed and carefully moving the hem of the dress up until it rested at her waist.

"You aren't that dilated yet," she explained as Christine rubbed her stomach worriedly, biting back a particular painful moan caused from another contraction, "so you probably have several hours to go. Are you hot or cold?"

"Hot," Christine replied weakly. Sorelli nodded in response.

"Get me a bowl of water and some clean cloths," she said aloud to the two persons standing off to the side, not really caring all to much who answered. Meg, instantly jumping on the opportunity, dragged Erik outside the room along with her before handing off her still sleeping son then walked off to retrieve said items. By the time Erik realized what had just happened, Meg had returned and shut the door tightly before he had the chance to get in.

"It's going to be okay, Christine," Meg promised, placing down the water-filled basin she had grabbed onto the floor before taking a cloth and soaking it in water. Quickly wringing it out, she went up to her friend and pressed it against her face, watching as her friend sighed when the cool water touch her burning skin.

"Where's Erik?" she asked, her brown eyes looking around desperately for her missing husband before another moan escaped her throat. The contractions were starting to become more painful, and she was barely able to get through them without Erik at her side. She didn't know if she'd be able to get through this whole birth without him beside her.

Taking the cloths Meg had set off to the side, Sorelli took a few of them and placed it near the foot of the bed before setting the rest off to the side. "Go get Erik if she wants, Meg," she instructed.

~0~

Having been shut out from the room containing his wife and daughter, Erik stood dumbfounded before the door as he held Meg's small child in his hands. Unsure of what to do he turned from the door and began walking further into the house before arriving in the nursery room he had built for his own child. Gently, as he was scared that he was going to harm- possibly break- the tiny being, he put Yevon into the crib.

"Now...you listen here," he said to the child, who was now awake and staring up at him with bright, expecting eyes. "When...When Jolee gets here you need to be...nice..." he trailed off, miffed as Yevon began squealing in delight at his warning. The gesture, however, began to make Erik laugh. _Why am I talking to this child as if he could _understand_ me,_ he thought with mirth before turning away from the crib. Seeing a rather comfortable looking rocking chair placed in the room, he soon found himself sitting in it and watching Yevon as he squealed and tried to talk. The sound was drowning out the painful screams of his wife, which was beginning to bother him as they clearly turned more desperate and distressed.

Leaning forward, Erik buried his face into the palms of his hands, trying to block off the noise that seemed like a grate against his heart. The thought of his beautiful angel going through so much pain and suffering was starting to drive him insane. And the screams, the sobbing, just kept coming. Time never seemed to pass, yet when he looked up to the small little clock he realized that several hours had indeed flown by.

Hearing footsteps approach the small nursery, Erik didn't even bother to lift his head up as Meg opened the door and peered inside. "Erik?" she said, taking in the scene of the man, appearing defeated, as he tried to stop his heart breaking from the sound of his wife's cries. "Christine needs you," she explained. "The baby's taking awhile, and she doesn't think that she can make it through-" Before she could even finish her sentence, Erik ran past her in a blur of black and quickly made his room into the bedroom.

"What the _hell_ are you doing to her!" he demanded, running instantly to Christine's side. Sorelli glared at him as he whispered soothing words into Christine's ear before turning back to her, glaring right back at the woman.

"I'm not doing it, your child is!"

"This didn't happen before _you_ came!" he shouted in retort.

"You're being completely irrational. If you're going to go insane, leave," Sorelli replied calmly before turning back to the task of helping Christine deliver the child.

"I'm not leaving," Erik hissed. Turning to Christine, he wiped away the sweat beading on her forehead. "Are you okay? How much does it hurt?"

"Lots..." she whispered, her voice weak from the earlier screaming. "Water..." she begged of him. Nodding his head, Erik turned to the smaller basin off to the side to get her some before he was stopped.

"Only give her ice chips, Erik," Madame Giry instructed, "unless you want her choking to death." Staring grimly at the woman, Erik didn't bother to reply before he took some of the ice chips set aside and pressed one against Christine's lips. As she took the cooling chip into her mouth, Erik carefully smoothed back her hair before kissing her forehead.

"On the next contraction, I need you to push," the older woman instructed, much to Christine's immediately refusal.

"I can't!" she exclaimed through her tears. "I can't do it. _Bon Dieu_, Erik, I'm not going to make it," Christine sobbed. Her whole body shook, trembled, as she cried. She was going to die, she knew it. That was the only thought in her mind as Erik wrapped his arms tightly around her. Their daughter was going to have to grow up without her, without a mother. However, Christine was sure that Sorelli could be a wonderful replacement. "Take good care of her, Erik," she said through tightly clenched teeth.

"Don't say that," Erik ordered, his voice demanding as he took her hand in his. "You _will_ make it through this, Christine. And I will be _right here_ with you. I know it seems like it's unbearable now, but soon our daughter will be with us and it will be over."

"Christine, I need you to push on the next contraction!" Taking a deep breath, the frail woman lifted herself forward and push with all the strength she had left in her. "Good!" Sorelli praised. Collapsing back onto the pillows, Christine panted heavily as Erik kissed the top of her head.

"Jolee's almost here, love," he whispered encouragingly. Nodding weakly in agreement, Christine waited with baited breath until the next contraction came crashing down on her already weak body. The pain was so great, she couldn't even cry anymore, just keep pushing until it finally stopped. Collapsing back onto the pillows again, she heard a loud cry.

Quickly standing up with a screaming, bloody child in her hands, Sorelli smiled warmly up at Christine. "It's a girl," she whispered before grabbing some left over cloths and placing the child in them, still holding her as she leaned forward and handed Erik the scissors. "Would you like to cut the umbilical cord?" she asked. Nodding his head, though it was clear that he was nervous and unsure, Erik walked over and quickly did as told before Sorelli stood to her full height and walked off to the basin of water Erik had eyed earlier.

Washing off the baby, she quickly grabbed a warm blanket and swaddled her before handing the still screaming child to it's mother. "Congratulations," she said with a wide grin. Reaching out with trembling arms, Christine took her baby in her arms as Erik walked back up beside her, sitting on the edge of the bed as he peered down. She couldn't stop smiling, despite how utterly exhausted she felt, as she rocked the crying child and held her close.

"Hello, little one," she whispered, kissing the top of her head before pulling down the hem of her dress so that Jolee could nurse. Lifting her head up to see her husband, her smile grew more bright as Erik looked down at their daughter, his eyes swimming with tears threatening to spill.

"She's beautiful..."

"Of course she is," Christine told him, reaching up and gently touching the baby's face. "She's ours." Out of the corner of his eyes, Erik noticed that Meg and Sorelli were exiting the room in hushed whispers, but put aside the thoughts as he bent down so that his head rested atop Christine's, his emerald eyes gazing down at his nursing child.

"Ours..." he whispered, feeling his eyes start to sting. Christine noticed and tilted her head up further to kiss him on the cheek.

"Our family."

"Can I...Can I hold her?" he asked her nervously. Nodding her head, she waited until Jolee was done nursing and carefully held her out for him to take in his own arms. Slightly scared, Erik gently picked her up and held her close. One of his hands supported more than half her tiny body, and the other held whatever was left. "Will I break her?"

Christine giggled, "No, of course not, silly. Just be sure to support her head." Erik suddenly froze, completely stiff, as he noticed his tiny daughter begin to fuss.

"What do I do?" he asked Christine, beginning to sound panicked.

"Rock her," she advised. "She just wants attention, Erik." As he wondered how exactly he was to perform that task, he looked down as he heard the strangest noise. Jolee was crying. He didn't know what to do as he attempted to calm down his child.

"Is she crying because of how I look?" he asked, his heart sinking in his chest as he realized that he was currently not wearing his mask.

"No, Erik," she said sternly. "Babies cry; it's just what they do."

"But why after she looks at me for the first time?"

"It's just bad timing, Erik. Trying singing to her." Erik paused, looking down at his daughter as she squirmed in his hands before taking a deep, shaky breath.

"What is a youth...? Impetuous fire..." he sung softly, peering down at his child as he watched the soothing affect of his deep voice on her. "What is a maid? Ice and desire... The world wags on..."

"Erik, that's a rather inappropriate song for a newborn," Christine scolded slightly, yet Erik only smiled in response as Jolee's cries stopped.

"But she's likes it, dear," he pointed out. "See?" Christine only sighed.

"You two are going to drive me mad." Erik smiled in return before leaning forward and kissing her gently.

"She's perfect..." he whispered, leaning closer to his wife so that Jolee rested against her chest, still being carefully held in his hands. "Never before have I felt so...at peace..." His emerald eyes, glistening with all the tears that were beginning to form, turned to look at Christine. "I love you."

~0~

E: Hello again, my lovelies! Did anyone miss me all these lone weeks? I know I missed all of you.

C: Shouldn't you be working on that journal for class?

E: I should...start. *heh heh* Yea, I haven't even started yet. I really should, because I'm about five or so days behind. It's not my fault I don't understand it! Besides, I'd much rather waste my times with my lovely stories all happy and typy and...stuff.

C: Typy isn't a word. Good Lord, you are out to kill me!

E: It's not my fault! Made up words are the best words!

C: Ugh, I still remember all those words you told me that you misspelled. My head and heart were actually _hurting_ from all the...horror.

E: Oh, psh. Anyways, I deeply apologize for how long it took me to write this. I just had major troubles blocking my creativity, but someone who has become very close to me has brought me out of my little funk.

C: So, we both hope that everyone enjoyed the chapter. I still don't understand why Erik spent so much time whining, I think that it turned out wonderful in the end.

E: Yea, yea, yea. As always, please review on the chapter. I spent a long time writing it, so make sure to reward me!

C: We can't wait to see everyone for the next chapter.

E: Until next time, we hoped you enjoyed the chapter.


	27. Ripples

**Author's Note: Hello, my little fans. I'm going to take a little break from my personas, but don't you worry they'll return for the ending AN's. Anyways, I'm doing this to inform you all about some...circumstances that have come into play. Everyone, please raise your hand, wave it, and say, "Hello, Erik's parents. So nice to see you."**

**Yes, you have guessed right. It is with much sadness that I report that my lovely parents have taken it upon themselves to read my story and, as expected with all strict parents, I have been ordered to immediately changed anything that is considered vulgar. So, you guessed right again! I'm being forced to take down the sex, cussing, and I pray that the gore can remain.**

**Basically, this story will stay at the same rating but only for the...what, two chapters in which Erik so delightfully kills someone. If it is demanded out of me that that go down too, then it shall be a sad day indeed, my little readers. But believe me, it is I who am more upset about this decision than you are, though I won't show it out in the open to their faces. I do not find it fair to you, the fans, that you are brought down along with me in my foolishness. So, if you decide to abandon this story then I do not blame you. I truly do hope that some of you will stay and stick through this with me, but I'm unaware for how long this placement will last. As far as I'm concerned, this **_**is**_** only a temporary thing. The true question is for how long.**

**Still, I do hope that you continue on with Christine and I on this grand adventure. After all, I still have at least seventy chapters that I promised and we are not even close to the halfway point. Just...bare with me through this tough time. If you do indeed decide to stay, than I thank you so very much, from the bottom of my heart, because this story is literally the world to me. The only thing that my parents don't seem to understand is that I use it mainly for practice to hone my writing skills for whatever may come my way when I become a real writer. But, I digress.**

**I will see you at the ending author's notes, if you bother to read that far. Happy reading.**

* * *

Roses of Life

* * *

Watching as Erik approached the newly-made mother, Meg let out an exhausted sigh. The image brought tears to her eyes. Just the picture before her, of this loving couple huddled around their newly borne child, reminded her of the circumstances that brought her little Yevon into the world. It was in that instant that she realized it unlikely for her son to experience that 'family' feeling'; at least not like how Jolee would experience it. "Mama," Meg whispered, "come with me?"

Her mother followed her out of the room, away from the touching family that caused Meg to realize her despair…and envy for what Christine now had.

"What is it?" Sorelli asked, slightly worried with the expression her daughter was showing.

"Nothing. I just wanted to give them some time together," Meg muttered, walking past her mom and into the nursery room Erik had built specifically for their, his and Christine's, arriving child. Going up to the crib, she smiled slightly as she picked up Yevon, brushing aside some of his blond hair and kissing him as he happily squealed.

"Do you think he looks like his father?" she innocently asked.

Sorelli looked at her grandson, "Yes, very much so." Her own child sighed in an exhausted fashion.

"Perhaps he'll grow out of it…?" she mused.

Suddenly, the sound of a door opening caused Meg's head to shoot up and hold her son closer to her. Erik had entered the room, holding his newborn daughter in his arms. The sight of the large man staring down at her own small frame, his emerald eyes studying her, was unnerving. This stare caused a sudden worry in Meg, a fear that this very man knew who Yevon's father was. And he was not pleased with the knowledge. The thought that this intimidating man might know that fact did not sit well with the young ballet dancer.

"What are you doing here?" She hadn't meant to come off as rude and nosey, but an unexplained fear for both her and her child's life forced her to say the words.

"Christine wished to sleep, so I took Jolee off her person so that she could properly rest," he explained before turning to Madame Giry. "You have a lovely grandson, Sorelli." The older woman smiled at said child, then glanced at Jolee.

"And you have a beautiful daughter."

"Yes, she is," he stated with great pride, straightening out his posture so that he towered a good foot and a half above the small ballet teacher. "But don't think I'll be so willing to allow the two of them to get close to each other…"

"Oh, Erik," Sorelli sighed, taking Yevon from Meg's arms and carrying him over to Erik, holding him close to Jolee. "Meet your future wife, Yevon."

"She will do no such thing!" Erik hissed, not noticing Yevon patting his daughter's face with his small hands, clearly curious with the sleeping bundle.

Sorelli rolled her eyes, "I was just joking, Erik." Emerald eyes falling down in relaxation, both women could see his entire body tense up before he took a step back. The movement caused Yevon's hand to fall away from Jolee, and his large brown eyes looked up at the man in what seemed to almost be defiance.

"Your grandson doesn't think so," he noted with malice.

"He's a _baby_, Erik. He doesn't even know his own name yet."

"Regardless," Erik muttered as he turned around and carefully placed Jolee into her crib. Turning back to face the woman and the child she held, his gaze instantly fell upon the blond baby and a strange hatred boiled deep inside him. "Who's the boy's father?"

The woman holding the child frowned in a disapproving manner. "How is it any of your business?"

"His face…it looks familiar," he whispered. Meg looked nervously at the even more frightening man.

"I-I should go and get Christine something to eat," she said hurriedly before either of the adults could reply. Not that they were even paying attention to her at this point, that is.

"You're being paranoid," Sorelli insisted.

"I'm _being_ cautious!"

"Well there's no reason to be."

"…He looks like the Vicomte…" Erik noted, his voice cold and calculating. Sorelli's once pleading and slightly annoyed look now turned into a full-on glare directed straight at the man.

"I take offense to that."

"It's true; same face shape, has the passing appearance of a girl," he persisted, all the while moving closer to the quiet babe. "Besides, Sorelli, it is my business. He's going to grow up with _my_ daughter, and I will _not allow_ him to get close to her, especially if he's the Vicomte's son…"

"He is _not_ the Vicomte's son, and how dare you accuse my daughter of that!"

Erik raised his eyebrows at the woman in complete disbelief. "Accuse her of what? I've said practically nothing," he replied, his voice void of any emotion.

"Oh yes, you have. Be careful, Erik, Jolee could easily have been Raoul's, had things turned out differently."

"How _dare_ you," he hissed dangerously, his gaze, now alight with fury, turning to Sorelli. "You know how hard I worked, how much _effort_ I put into both Christine's love and happiness, only to have that _man_ ruin it!"

"Well, everything turned out all right for you. I don't appreciate you insinuating my daughter slept with him…"

"Fine," Erik spat before sneaking a glance at his daughter, then turning to face the open doorway. "I need to take care of some business down at the opera house. Make sure that Christine gets her rest; I'll be back by morning."

* * *

Meg quietly entered Christine's bedroom, holding a tray filled with a steaming bowl of soup and some bread. Smiling down at her friend as she slept, she carefully placed the tray on the bedside table before gently shaking Christine's shoulder. "Christine?" she called out. "I know you want to sleep, but you need to eat _something_." When Christine finally joined the walking world her brown eyes blinked before looking around, then lifting herself up from the bed.

"Where's my baby?" she asked sleepily.

"Erik put her down so that she could rest. Now, don't worry so much about her, she's being safely looked after," Meg assured her. "Eat up. You're probably exhausted and it'll help you a lot."

Nodding her head, Christine brought the bowl closer to her as Meg began removing the bloody rags from under her and placing them in one of the empty basins. As Christine greedily feasted on the rich soup filled with herbs and the fresh bread she could feel her strength slowly returning.

"I want to see Jolee," Christine said after polishing off the heavy meal.

"Then let's go see her," she replied, wiping off her hands on a clean rag before carefully helping Christine out of the bed. With shaky legs, Christine slowly but surely made her way out of the room and into the nearby nursery.

Upon entering the room, Christine noticed that Sorelli was holding her grandson, her own daughter asleep in her crib, and yet Erik was nowhere to be found. "Where's Erik?"

Sorelli rolled her eyes. "He went to the opera house. Apparently, there's something that he needed to do," she explained before placing Yevon in his mother's arms. "Have you eaten yet?"

"Meg gave me a soup of some sorts and bread before I came," Christine answered, walking up to the crib that contained her daughter. Reaching out, she picked up the sleeping child and stared in awe as she held her close.

Meg noticed and moved closer to her friend. "Something wrong?" she asked, concerned.

"No," Christine whispered. "She's just…perfect." Meg smiled at Christine's words.

"She's your daughter," she pointed out, "of course she is."

Returning the smile, Christine gently rocked her child, watching as Jolee stretched and strained in her grasp. It wasn't long until the child awoke from her slumber and opened her eyes. If it was possible, Christine's amazement grew as she stared down into her daughter's large emerald-colored eyes. "Thank you," she muttered to her friend, unconsciously brushing her hand over the top of Jolee's head.

"She's got my curls," she added ruefully.

"I think it looks cute on her. She looks just like you, you know."

"She's got her father's eyes, though," Christine whispered.

Nodding her head, Meg adjusted her hold on Yevon before bringing him beside Jolee. "I hope her and Yevon are as close as us," she admitted, watching happily as her son squealed in delight before going on to pat Jolee's head again. Christine smiled at the gesture.

"Not too close, or Erik will worry."

"Over what? Look at him, Christine, he's so harmless."

"Erik doesn't trust…anyone, really," she confided. Meg laughed, obviously thinking the idea of her son being a threat utterly ridiculous, before pulling her son away from Jolee. "When will Erik return?" she quietly asked Sorelli.

"He said he'll return by morning, but something tells me he'll come back earlier than that," Madame Giry explained before finally exiting the room. Christine merely sighed, slowly rocking her daughter as the small child continued to stare at her in rapt attention.

"Don't you think it strange?" Meg innocently asked once her mother left. Christine only stared at her curiously in reply, so she continued on. "You just gave birth a few hours ago –you shouldn't even be walking –and he goes off and disappears?"

Christine smiled, though it seemed a little sad. "This is nothing new, Meg. I'm sure he'll return soon. Please…don't worry on my behalf." Gazing sadly at her friend, Meg reluctantly nodded, and the topic was quick dropped as Christine regained her cheerfulness. Though they continued on with the day with what little left there was, Meg couldn't help but secretly worry for her friend. True, her predicament was no worse or better than hers, but at least she wasn't as trapped as Christine was.

Meg didn't love Raoul, and she had already agreed with her mother that they would never go to him in desperation, for fear of his knowledge of Yevon then her being forced to marry of wedlock. But with Christine, it wasn't just that she was married but she loved the man she was married too. To Meg, it felt more like a trap and a curse than a blessing.

Walking with Christine into the dining room, holding their two children as they happily chattered on about everything and nothing, Meg wondered if her friend was truly content with this life in near solitude.

* * *

Felicity walked through the long corridors of the Lafayette Estate, wandering about for something to do. Earlier in the week her husband, Anthony, had returned home for about the ninth time but promptly left before she even had the chance to welcome him home. In the last four months, Anthony had been coming and going from the estate, each time leaving with a different excuse. This time, he supposedly had to leave to catch up with some old college friends he hadn't seen in awhile.

Naturally, Felicity hadn't complained once with his sudden disappearances. But now whenever Anthony came home he was almost passed out from all the liquor he consumed and his attractions, if any, seemed to rise in her presence. Though their marriage hadn't been consummated yet, she was scared of just how her life was going to turn out. She could still escape, yet something gnawing in the recesses of her mind told her that all was lost.

"Felicity!" an annoyingly cheery voice called out. With her constant thought of doom and gloom, Felicity had little patience for _anything_ even remotely happy.

"What is it, Aida?" she asked, turning around to greet her sister-in-law. The raven-haired woman merely smiled at Felicity before holding out a dress toward her.

"Henri is taking my out tonight to a party. Seeing as Anthony offered to chaperone, you're coming," Aida said with a strained smile. Felicity, having always been wary of Aida, carefully took the dress. Turning to leave, Felicity suddenly reached out to grab her. Holding onto her hanging sleeve, Aida turned around to glare at her. She was obviously displeased with her hold-up.

"Um…Do you, by chance, know where Anthony is?" she asked nervously.

"Out," Aida answered in annoyance. "Where is he always? He's with his 'friends' at a pub."

"I know he does that; I'm not stupid," Felicity retorted. "It's just…he hasn't…consummated our marriage yet…And I was wondering if he was busy with…_others_," slowly, her voice softened and lowered to the point that she was eventually whispering as a deep blush stained her cheeks.

Aida chuckled at her embarrassment before giving her a sympathetic sigh. "Poor, poor Felicity. It's wonderful to know that you aren't _completely_ daft. If it bothers you so much, then just get a lover," she explained.

"A lover?" Aida rolled her eyes before turning around once again to leave, clearly set on ending the conversation. "You know, not everyone believes that façade."

"Façade?" she asked innocently. "What 'façade'?"

Felicity scoffed. "Honestly? You think that you can just bat those green eyes of yours and everyone will fall into your hands like the dolls you treat them to be."

"Well, apparently not _everyone_," she muttered.

"I know you hate me, Aida."

"I don't hate you, I _nothing_ you," she replied, the fake charming smile from before plastered on her face once again. "But that's beside the point. Stop this silly chatter and go get dressed." Before Felicity had a chance to reply, she quickly walked back the way she came and disappeared behind the corner. Sighing, Felicity folded the dress in her arms and headed towards her own room.

She already knew why Henri had offered Aida the invitation. His parents were throwing a lavish party at their home and Henri found it a perfect opportunity. For what, Felicity didn't know, but she had been forced to listen to him continue on about it for weeks.

Felicity sighed, wishing that her parents had instead set up an arranged marriage with Henri. They had known each other since they were children and she had a crush on him most her life. But, of course, she had to be introduced to Anthony Lafayette. True, her parents knew about her feelings, but upon meeting her current husband any earlier ideas were quickly brushed aside. Anthony was far wealthier than anything Henri could hope to achieve, not to mention he had women fawning over him all the time. To her parents, it was a miracle he had taken interest in their _plain_ daughter.

Henri, on the other hand, had hardly ever taken notice of Felicity when it came to romantic intentions. In a sick twist of fate, he fell deeply in love with her sister-in-law, Aida, and proceeded to court her. Like her brother, many men sought her hand but all fell cold to her icy disposition. For some reason, though, she warmed up to Henri.

Perhaps it was a way of punishment for her disobedience, but Felicity was forced to endure Henri's constant chattering of his interest. Every day he came over to take Aida somewhere new, and each time he stayed for tea she was forced to listen to him go on and on about what they had done that day. Even with the annoyance, she felt a pang of emptiness as her own husband merely sat next to her looking completely bored out of his mind. At times, he would look in his reflection to entertain himself but he mostly ignored everything around him.

Then, ever since his father was shot he was always out on the town. 'Looking for clues' is what he told her whenever she begged him to stay, unable to face another lonely day, but he always returned with a slurred speech and the strong scent of liquor on his breath.

"Oh, Anthony," Felicity wistfully sighed as she finished dressing. Turning to face the large window opening out onto the garden, she smiled. _I guess it isn't all bad_, she thought hopefully. _The fact he hasn't tried to force himself on me is reason enough to celebrate_.

Hearing a sudden slamming, Felicity jumped nearly a foot in the air as she turned to face her bedroom door, her small hand placed over her pounding heart. "Anthony!" she yelled at the man standing before the door. "Don't scare me like that!"

"Come 'ere," he ordered, completely ignoring her words as he stepped forward. "Come 'ere and greet your husband properly." Walking up beside her, he wrapped his arm around her waist and forced a kiss onto her. Felicity, taken by surprise with the sudden gesture, didn't even note the strong scent of whiskey on his breath. She hadn't been kissed on the lips by him since the day of their wedding.

"A-Anthony, I didn't expect you h-home so s-s-soon," she stammered.

"I wanted…my wife…" he mumbled. Leaning forward, as if not properly hearing, Felicity was about to speak but was stopped as Anthony quickly picked her up.

"Anthony!" she exclaimed. "Anthony, put me down this instant!"

"No," he responded, anger tinted in his voice just enough to silence Felicity. Swaying a bit, he soon began walking towards a side door and quickly opened it. Walking inside, he closed the door with his foot and walked up to the large bed that Felicity spent her nights alone.

Laying her down on the mattress, he stood up and began removing the clothes from his body. Felicity stared in horror, cursing herself for assuming things beforehand as panic began to claim her. "A-Anthony, we're to leave for a party soon. W-We can't…_you _can't—"

"Shut up," Anthony demanded before getting on the bed as well, his body hovering over hers. She could easily feel the bare skin above her except for his trousers.

"Anthony, _please_," she whimpered, terrified as his hand tangled in her brown locks and his lips descended on hers again.

When she continued pleading with him, begging him to leave her alone as his hand left her hair and joined the other in removing her dress, he abruptly sat up and slapped her across the face. She could feel the tears start to roll down her face and the stinging burn of her cheek, but she remained completely silent and still. "What I claim," he hissed, "is mine."

With her fight gone, she closed her eyes tightly as he returned to his task of stripping her away of any clothes. She remained silent, the realization of what was going to happen causing her to be unable to speak, as he completed his task and proceeded to take his pleasures on her.

As everything was happening, she only prayed that she would make it through this day.

* * *

E: Hello everyone. No, I am not dead. Yes, I have finally updated. Yes, the above author's notes is true. No, I can not immediately return everything to normal. Yes, it will after awhile. Yes, they can't control me forever. *smiles evilly*

C: Sooo…I see that you finally wrote.

E: Yes. I'm sorry, my fans but my computer crashed over a month ago. I was unable to write, because writing with paper and pencil hurts my hand beyond belief. I'm left-handed, if that explains anything. Anyways, my computer is almost fixed entirely and I should be back to regularly updating within the next two weeks.

C: For those of you wondering, the earlier author's notes were written by Erik about a month before his computer crashed.

E: I know, I've just been lazy and slacking. I'm been occupied with school, so sue me. Oh! It's Erik's birthday next week, so send him a nice present. *smiles* Whether it be a letter or a drawing or whatever, I really would like something. Christine's is on the 30th of July, to anyone interested…

C: Sorry the author's notes are so short, but Erik is fresh out of ideas.

E: Yup, gotta restock this stupid inbox every once in awhile. But, like I said, I've been really lazy as of late.

C: To whom it may concern, we're sorry for the massive delay in updating.

E: Make sure you all review, because Erik will just be extremely happy.

C: See you next chapter.


	28. Revelations

E: I know I'm late! Erik is so extremely sorry and he should find a pen and carve "Bad Author" (insert random high number here) times! I'm not dead or coming in and out of a comatose, I swear! My poor laptop just hasn't been fixed…still… And I just stole my old dinosaur from my sister so I can somewhat type!

C: *lightly smacks you with roleplay notebook* You should be ashamed of yourself!

E: *sobs* I aaaaaaammmmmmmmm!

C: I'm talking about your grammar! Good Lord, you're out to kill me. Either start paying attention or you _will_ listen to my lectures.

E: Silly dearest. I'm a writer by trade and by passion. Grammar is for the commonly editor.

C: …What was that?

E: Hmm? I didn't say anything. I was mumbling to myself. God, it's like you don't know me at all. _And you call yourself my wife_!

C: Erik, I'm too tired to listen to your harping. Now, where is my CATS movie I lent you nearly a month ago?

E: …*hides movie under the random dead body of my next kill that I'm planning* I ate it…

C: Don't.

E: I did.

C: Start the chapter. I'm not doing this.

E: You _are_ the killjoy. Everyone, enjoy chapter…actually, I lost count awhile ago.

C: Twenty-eight.

E: Yea, that one!

* * *

Roses of Life

* * *

Life is never fair. It has a wonderful tendency to go along blissfully, leading you into a false sense of security where you believe yourself utterly protected. Then, it suddenly collapses before you, and every inch of your being is shattered from the impact. No one understood this better than Felicity Michelet Lafayette.

An hour had passed, and the brunette was left lying on the bed, sobbing quietly as Anthony stood before the small mirror on her vanity, inspecting himself. She tried to hide her nude body from him by clinging the blankets to her, but even then she felt like she was unable to hide anything.

"Get up," Anthony mumbled, finally pulling away from his reflection. His hands reached up to adjust his tie, but then moved to the chair that was pulled out and picked up the dress Aida had given his wife only a few hours ago. "Get dressed, Aida's likely to throw a fit if we don't hurry." Felicity still refused to move, her face cast as she tried to stifle her sobs. Everything hurt, and she couldn't let him know. He smirked, moving to sit on the edge of the bed as he set aside the dress. Reaching forward, he took hold of her exposed arm and pulled her close. The thin blanket fell away, and Felicity was soon held tightly against him as his mouth rested beside her ear. For a moment, a brief flighting moment, she believed that he was to show a hidden love. To soften his torture and whisper sweet nothings. Her hopes, however, were soon dashed by his words.

"Would you rather I dress you myself, my fickle little nightingale? Surely, Aida can wait a few more moments."

"_No_!" she said quickly, pushing herself far away from the man as she scrambled to cover herself. "No, no, Anthony, I-I can do it," she stammered, quickly forcing a smile as if she thoroughly enjoyed his twisted pleasure. "Truly, my husband, I do not wish you to fall out of favor with your own sister."

Anthony smiled, reaching forward to brush aside the brown hair that had fallen before her face. "Have it your way. But I truly do enjoy your company, my wife. I shall see you again in the parlor," he said, now sitting up from his seat. Giving her a last smile, he then left the room and Felicity to her thoughts.

* * *

Aida strolled into the room like a breath of wind, wearing a dress that showed off all her best assets and smiling widely. "Henri!" she said when she saw him, as if she had no idea whatsoever that he was going to be there and staring dumbfounded at her, at that. "It's so _wonderful_ to see you," she crooned, looking at him through long eyelashes. Inside her, however, was a fire burning brightly of fury. Anthony was no where to be seen and she wanted to avoid being late.

"My God, Aida, you look stunning," Henri breathed, standing up from his seat and starting at the shimmering golden dress. Taking her outstretched hand, he kissed the knuckles before twirling her around. "Absolutely beautiful."

"Oh, Henri, stop, you flatter me too much," she giggled before looking around the room. Anthony still had not shown.

"Where is your husband?" Henri asked, turning to Felicity. She was looking down at her lap, wringing her hands together to where the knuckles turned white. A permanent look of defeat was etched onto her face. "We'll be late soon if he doesn't show up." Shooting her head up, Felicity stared fearfully at the couple.

"Yes, why don't you go get him?" Aida said sweetly, a look added to her face that left no room for any arguments. Though it was obvious that she was terrified, her fear for the woman far outweighed the one of her husband and she managed a weak nod before standing from her seat and nearly bolting out of the room.

"Why is she so afraid of your brother?" Henri asked quietly.

"Oh, she's rather young and it was an arranged marriage. Anthony can seem a bit rude if you don't know him very well," she explained simply, smiling as Henri took both of her hands in his and kissed her cheek.

"Either way, if they don't return soon I'll just have to take you out myself, chaperone or not."

"And risk my reputation? You wouldn't!" she exclaimed, feigning shock.

"The passion of my heart overrules the logic of my mind," he confided, gently kissing her cheek as Aida swooned. Leaning into him, she sighed dreamily.

"How are you not married yet?"

"I've been waiting all this time for you to come along," he replied, leaning forward to kiss her. He was stopped shortly, though, as Felicity returned with her husband. Tears were in her eyes and satisfaction in his.

Noticing Aida's glare, Anthony smirked. "Ready to go, sister dear?"

"I've been ready for a while now, brother dear," she said pleasantly, her words laced with annoyance. Her brother, dismissing her poisonous words with a wave of his hand, took Felicity by the waist and led them up to the waiting carriage. During the whole ride, Aida sat close to Henri and smiled softly as he whispered sweet words of love into her ear. Felicity glared in jealousy, though the two seemed oblivious as could be, and Anthony stared out the window. Overall, the trip ended quickly and soon the group was getting out before a lavishly decorated house.

"I want you to meet my parents," Henri said, guiding her and the group to the ballroom where the party was being held. The only thing Aida was thinking of was how she could hardly wait until everyone saw her with Henri, so it took her a moment to grasp what he had said.

"I would be delighted," she said, smiling even wider. This was going even better than she had hoped. Feeling a supportive squeeze in her hand, she giggled again and walked with Henri up to an aged couple. She vaguely noticed that her brother had walked off to the bar and Felicity had disappeared somewhere.

"Father, Mother," he said respectively. "This is Aida Lafayette, the woman I've been courting for five months now."

Aida curtsied to both persons. "It's so wonderful to meet you both. This is a lovely party you've thrown."

"Why, aren't you just a dear?" Henri's mother smiled warmly at her and her son. "My Henri has been saying _so_ much about you. You're all he _ever_ talks about at home. 'Where should I take Aida today, Mother?' 'What should I say to her, Father?' Truly, it's endearing." Henri blushed.

"I must agree. But really? I hope he hasn't been telling stories. I'm not that interesting," she insisted, blushing shyly.

"Nonsense," Henri whispered to her before looking up at both of his parents. "I'm sorry Father, Mother, but I have promised this young lady a dance, and I would do wrong by putting it off any longer. I'll see you for the announcement in…" he checked his pocket watch, "one hour."

Allowing Henri to lead her onto the dance floor, she waited patiently until they eased into the familiar steps before resting her head slightly on his chest. Smirking slightly into his jacket, she tossed aside any stares of more polite company and whispered, "What announcement, Henri?"

"It's a surprise."

"Ooh," she sighed. "You can't give me a little, tiny hint?" she begged.

"I'm announcing it."

"Is it exciting?"

Looking up into the air, he thought for a moment as he guided her through each step. Taking her back a step, forward two, all the while twirling about as he contemplated. "Well, if the announcement goes as planned, it will change both our lives."

"Hmmm…" Aida mulled it over. "So I take it that it's good news?"

"_Wonderful_ news."

"Then I can't wait."

* * *

Climbing each step silently as the echo of his parents' voice surrounded him, he smiled at Aida who was slightly behind him "Excited?" he murmured.

"Yes," she whispered back, taking her handkerchief and twisting it around her wrist. "This night has been so wonderful, I don't know how you could possibly make it any better." Henri, sneaking a glance from their darkened corner where they were waiting, made sure that no one was watching before kissing her. Their first kiss.

"Henri, dearest, your announcement!" his mother said happily, her body turned towards him from the light of the opened air. Pulling away, he squeezed Aida's hand and took her with him as they both appeared on a balcony looking over the whole ballroom.

"Thank you, Mother," he told her before facing the audience. "Thank you everyone for coming. Now, before we return to the festivities, I would like to announce something. As most of you surely know by now, Aida and I have been courting for a long while now." Here he turned to face her. "I love her more than I've loved any other." Taking her hand in his, he held it tight in both hands before falling down onto his knees before her. Aida couldn't hold back her gasp of surprise, though she had been expecting this, and brought both her hands to her mouth.

"Oh, Henri…" she breathed.

"Aida Lafayette, will you live the rest of your life with me? Will you be my wife?" he asked, reaching into his pocket and taking out a shining ring.

"Yes!" she exclaimed. "Oh, Henri, of course yes!" Allowing Henri to take her hand again, she watched as he slid the ring onto her left middle finger. As applause erupted in the room, Henri stood and kissed his newly betrothed.

As they pulled away to smile at each other, Anthony approached the two, slightly swaying, and patted Henri on the back. "Congratulations! I hope you know what you're getting into," he said rather loudly, laughing.

Aida rolled her eyes. "Oh, brother, you and your jokes," she said, smiling at him. However, as soon as Henri turned to accept his father's well wishes, she shot Anthony a dark look. He only chuckled in return, ruffling her hair like one would to a small child.

"How about you go and see Felicity? She would just _love_ the company."

"Henri and I have to plan the wedding. Why don't you keep _your wife_ company?" she offered instead, speaking sweetly.

"She doesn't like being around me much, though I don't know why. Besides, your wedding will not be for a long while, and Henri and I must celebrate."

"I know what your version of 'celebrate' is," Aida retorted, scowling at him in annoyance.

"Let the man have some fun before he's stuck with you for life," he said. "Play your mind games with Felicity, not me," Anthony hissed at her before joining Henri and leading him down in the crowd.

Gritting her teeth, Aida settled with glaring at her brother's retreating back before following down the stairs and plastering a smile on her face before going through the crowd to join Felicity near the back. "So, have you and my brother consummated the marriage yet?" she asked nonchalantly.

Felicity's face turned a deep shade of red and tears stung her eyes at both the memory and the words. "Yes, he did."

"Was it not the fairy tale you dreamed about?" she continued, inspecting her nails as her other hand played with her handkerchief.

"I-I never im-imagined it as anything m-more than m-my duty."

Aida let out a huff of boredom before giving up on her inspection to twirl the cloth between both hands. "Poor you. Common street whores have more fun than you."

"Aida!" Felicity exclaimed quietly. "What would your parents think of such language? Are you in the belief that I sell my body?" she hissed. "Your brother _forced_ himself on me. He is a horrible…_horrible_ man. A-And…" she trailed off, loosing the fight in her already as she attempted to explain her husband.

"Yes, he is," she stated plainly. "He once put worms in my bed. So you know what I did? I set fire to his clothes." Felicity merely stared at her in confusion. "The point of the story is do unto others what they do to you."

"I don't see how doing the opposite would help. If anything, he'd be overjoyed, the bastard."

"No, I didn't say that. Torment him. Dress ugly or something. Or dress provocative in a public place so that he can't do anything without risking some embarrassment or scandal."

As a waiter passed by, Felicity took a glass of offered wine and took a sip of it. "I'm not a loose woman like you, Aida. I will not flaunt my body to my own husband, much less any strangers."

"Well, you probably shouldn't set anything on fire," Aida advised, taking a long drink before pulling away. Honestly, she couldn't be any more bored.

"But that is what you did to gain Henri's attention. Flaunt yourself, that is. It never really made any sense to me, though, what you saw in him."

Aida stared at her as though she was crazy. "He's rich and handsome, what more is there? Honestly," she shook her head, "sometimes I worry about you."

"But what about him as a _person_? Do you even know him like I do?" A glare was immediately turned to Felicity, and Aida eyed her suspiciously.

"How do you know him?" she asked in a strange calmness.

"W-We were childhood friends. And close too, very close."

Aida watched her sharply. "Maybe you _were_. He's probably forgotten all about you."

"How do you know that?" she questioned, the defiance from earlier returning. "He showed up at the wedding, didn't he? Plus, he's been talking to me constantly on how he was…going to…_propose_ to…you…"

"Exactly. Propose to _me_."

Felicity glared at Aida, her large brown eyes burning into her. It was at least one thing she had allowed herself to learn from Aida. "Eventually, dear _sister_, you're not going to get whatever you want. Henri, if anything, is not stupid."

"Neither am I, little sister," she said amiably.

"You can't keep up this charade forever. Sooner or later, people are going to notice. You pretend you're so sweet and innocent, but only to those that are worth a second thought from you."

"Why, Felicity! I don't have any idea what you mean."

"Just watch, Aida. Henri is going to see who you really are and call off the wedding."

Aida sighed, growing bored once again with the game Felicity was keeping up. "Oh, no, I'm so scared," she muttered. Felicity bit the end of her tongue, determined not to give in and cry in front of the other woman.

"I take it back. _You're_ the worst, Aida. This is not some world where everyone is your doll to manipulate and control."

"That's what you think," she sang slightly.

"No, Aida, that's what I _know_," she spat. Glancing off to the side, she noticed the two men in their lives approach and quickly held her tongue, biting back the hate filled words she wanted to scream at her sister-in-law.

"It's grown terribly late, ladies," Henri said pleasantly. "I hope you don't mind us escorting you home."

Aida smiled, slipping her arm through his and moving closer as Felicity remained where she was. "No, of course not. I'd rather go home now anyway," she assured, kissing his cheek as he escorted her through the dispersing crowd and out to the awaiting carriage, Anthony and Felicity close behind.

* * *

Erik stared down onto the stage of the Opera Populaire, a stifled rage inside him as he watched life go by underneath him. Ballet girls did warm-ups and practiced a few moves while chattering amongst each other and the stage crew hurried about, placing up sets and props. The opera house was putting on its winter production, which Christine was unable to audition for because of her state. This meant that Carlotta had the chance to convince the managers how superior she was to the 'second-rate rat' and steal the role.

Though this angered him to great extents, he refrained himself from sending any threatening notes to the managers like before. Compared to how they ran the theatre before, they had vastly improved over the year. He supposed that he could let them go with this little slip up. But, then again, he just wasn't up to much tormenting today.

"I really should find a way to fire this brat," he muttered, his voice showing how bored he was as he played with a knife in his hand. He was still gazing down at the world below, smirking as the ballet rats quickly scattered upon the entrance of Carlotta and company. As usual, she was shrieking in Italian about some poor misfortune of hers. Erik sighed, her ranting never was interesting.

Waiting until her attendants moved away slightly as she continued ranting about, he flicked his wrist and watched as the knife skimmed past her ridiculous hat and landed squarely before her. Several ballet girls screamed and one even fainted as Carlotta stared in horror at the blade. "_It's the Phantom of the Opera_!" a girl's voice shrieked, causing even more panic to ensue. Erik chuckled darkly; it had been too long since he had wrecked a little anarchy.

Standing up from his comfortable seat, he watched as Carlotta began a string of curses in Italian before Firmin and André decided to step in. _It's hardly fair_, he thought. _These poor people haven't had the pleasure of my entertainment in so long. _Adjusting the strap holding his cape close, he turned from the catwalks and into one of his many secret passageways. He had been gone for many hours, and no doubt Christine was expecting him by now.

Quickly making his way through the maze of catacombs, he exited out of the dead air into the crisp night. Seeing the small house off in the distance, he let slip a small smile. Walking down the hill, it didn't take long for him to reach the door and open it so that he could enter. "I'm home," he called out softly. Almost instantly, Christine appeared from the hallway with a welcoming smile.

"Welcome home, Erik," she whispered, causing him to swell with happiness. "Don't talk too loud, I just got Jolee to sleep." Going up to her, he held her close to him and kissed the top of her head.

"And we should do the same. I'm starting to wonder why I even allowed you up and about. Come, _ma chérie_," he muttered, taking her hand in his and walking with her to their bedroom. An instant chill filled him, and he slightly glared at her. "Christine, you're going to catch your death in here."

"Jolee's room is much warmer," she insisted, smiling as Erik built up the fire in the fireplace and crawling under the covers. Removing himself of his excess clothes, he soon joined her and rested his head contently on the pillows, enjoying the growing warmth.

"If you don't start behaving, I might have to punish you," he whispered, wrapping his arms around her now small stomach and dragging her closer.

"Erik, no," she mumbled sleepily. "I just gave birth, dear. I'm not scared of you," she added, only to receive a chuckle in reply.

"I never said scared, darling," he commented, pulling her right up beside him. He had nearly forgotten how perfectly she fitted against him. "Am I allowed to at least kiss my wife goodnight?" he added, teasing.

"But of course," she laughed, leaning in to comply to his request, her hands on his chest. Almost instantly, his lips crushed over hers, stealing away her breath. His tongue ran along her lips, demanding entrance into the sweet haven. Submitting to his demands, a small moan escaped her throat as his tongue slid against hers.

Suddenly he pulled away, kissing her forehead chastely instead. "Now, now, Christine. Think of yourself," he said, taunting her. She merely smiled, curling up beside him and rested her head on his shoulder.

"How considerate you are," she whispered happily before closing her eyes. "But I'm exhausted, love. Good night."

"Good night, _ma ange_," he whispered back before settling into the soft bedding. It wasn't long until he fell into a deep sleep. He was dreaming of his wife, Christine, with children surrounding her. She was smiling and laughing, as were the six young ones at her feet. A warmth flooded Erik, and he felt at peace with the scene. However, the bright sky soon turned gray and the children began to run away, holding hands and waving goodbye. He wanted to call them back, to make them stay, but the voice of Christine stopped him. She too was fading into the growing darkness. Erik could tell she was giving him reassurance, telling him that their love was enough, but her words were muffled by the liquid night.

He awoke to his child screaming.

Christine jolted up from the bed and immediately got out, walking in the direction of Jolee's bedroom. Sighing, he sat up from the bed as well and followed after her. Approaching his child's bedroom, he leaned against the doorframe and smiled as he watched Christine pick up the screaming child. Though he was surrounding in darkness, enough light was given off from the full moon that rays of bright moonlight shone into the room, illuminating the whole room.

With the soft light bringing life to the room, Erik watched in silence as Christine picked up their newborn child and hold her close. "Shh, little one," she whispered, rocking her gently as she moved about the room. The chocolate curls the framed her face fell down in spiraling locks, hiding her face as she looked down at the face of her child. Slowly, her feet carried her to the rocking chair in the room as she began to sing a lullaby to her child. By now, Jolee's cries had quieted as she stared up curiously at her mother.

"Maybe I didn't love you quite as often as I could have…" she sang, slowly rocking her child as she did so. "And maybe I didn't treat you quite as good as I should have. If I made you feel second best, I'm so sorry, I was blind. You were always on my mind…always on my mind."

Remaining in his hidden space, he watched as Christine leaned back and continued with the song. The same one he had sung to her so long ago. A pang stab at his heart, and he was remained of the dream he had not more than five minutes ago. A slight fear overwhelmed him, and he wondered what was to happen to him when his daughter grew up and left them. Or when Christine would pass on into eternal sleep?

_Morbid thoughts_, he reprimanded himself on behalf of his wife. It surely would be what she would say, after all. "You handling okay?" he asked quietly, stepping out from the shadow and approaching her from behind the rocking chair. Leaning forward, he kissed her before gazing down at Jolee.

"She has your beautiful face," he noted, reaching a hand down to gently brush back a small curl.

"But your eyes," Christine added, smiling up at him. After a short reluctance, he nodded his head in agreement. He didn't like admitting that his beautiful daughter could be anything close in looks to…him. But upon closer inspection, he was surprised to find that his small child did indeed possess his emerald colored irises.

"Our little girl," Christine whispered, smiling as her child cooed as her father held out a finger for her enjoyment.

"Yes…" he agreed. "Ours…"

* * *

E: Erik has a wonderful announcement.

C: Yes, and I plan to kill you later for it. I told you, Erik, no more stories! Not until you get at least one finished!

E: *ignores completely* Erik is writing two brand new stories for all of your wonderful enjoyment! Erik has decided that, after reading so many parodies from just about every category I'm madly in love with, he should try his hand at it! My lovely little readers seem to enjoy these here authors notes—

C: —Still no reason to go off and _write more stories_! You've so much to catch up on because of your lack of writing and I will not be held responsible to the masses just because you decided to be lazy every Saturday—

E: —So he's decided that, for the sake of showing that he's a good sport, he's making one! Oh, Erik is so excited! Then Erik's putting up another E/C story.

C: *bangs head against the wall, realizing that she has no chance of winning Erik over and making him stop this insanity and that she was to deal with even more grammatical errors*

E: But the thing is, Erik isn't sure exactly where it's going. Like this story, I'm writing it with another friend in a roleplay. We're planning to make it three parts, and I'm writing part one. I need to ask if we're putting it on my account or hers.

C: *suddenly looks up in fear*

E: *evil grin* I never gave my fans Christine's account name…did I? Well it's—

C: *violently tackles* No! You can allow yourself to be mobbed, but you will _not_ throw me under the bus! *ties up, gags, then throws into the _Closet of Failed Ideas_*

{To those readers who might be interested, the _Corner of Depressed Writers _and the _Closet of Failed Ideas_ all exist in my room. Though Christine police taped my corner, I'm in the process of killing the bodyguard and laying siege until I retrieve it *winks*}

C: Sadly, he's not kidding… Now that we've rid ourselves of idiocy, I'll continue on. Everyone, please review. We really, _really_ do enjoy reading them. I caught Erik reading over old ones a while ago and laughing his head off on…things he already read. Yes, he's a really simple child.

E: *muffled* I am not a child!

C: So, after you're done with that simple little task we ask of you, please look up for the next update. It should happen eventually. Erik claims that his computer is almost fixed, but he's been saying that for two months now, so I highly doubt it. Anyway, we'll both be seeing you next chapter. Till then!


	29. Past and the Future Create the Present

E: Erik has decided to humor _ses petites lectrices_ by including a little good old-fashioned humor in this chapter.

C: Basically, your first glimpse at story Erik being a daddy.

E: I think that you are all going to enjoy it very much. It's not a lot, but it's enough for now. Don't you worry though, because there is to be more. Not until Jolee gets older is all the fun stuff that's going to happen, but still…

C: In other news, Roses of Life has now reached it's _one year anniversary_!

E: *explodes one of those little party poppers* _Is this not the most fantastic, absolutely stunning and incredible thing that you have heard before been blessed upon your ears_?

C: In addition, even though it is incredible late, Merry Christmas everyone.

E: And all the other holidays too, I suppose.

C: Erik, be polite.

E: You're my wife, not my mother.

C: *sighs* Continuing... my _dearest_ husband would like to apologize for the _massive_ delay in updating.

E: Wha?

C: *glares* You know what I'm talking about.

E: Oh, yes, dearest, the guilt of what I have done weighs heavily on my heart, and I will try ever so hard to do my best like the good little writer you aspire me to be.

C: Was that sarcasm?

E: No...

C: It had better not be, or I swear to you I will make sure that the torture you go through will not be a pleasurable one.

E: I apologize. I believed you not to be pregnant anymore. But it seems that I was once again proven wrong-

C: *hits upside head*

E: _What was that for!_

C: I apologize. I believed you to be far too big-headed for your own good. Thus, as your wife, it is my duty to make sure that your ego doesn't grow _too_ large else you'll be unable to exit a room.

E: Why you little nuisance! I outta-

C: Readers, do please enjoy the incredibly late, but newly updated, Chapter Twenty-nine.

* * *

Roses of Life

* * *

After several minutes of watching Christine attempt to lure their daughter back into sleep's welcoming embrace, he sighed and chastely kissed her brow. "Let me take care of the babe," he whispered against her. "You need your rest."

Tilting her head up, she smiled wearily before lifting Jolee up slightly, placing her in his waiting arms. "Alright, if you say so," she muttered sleepily. Sitting up from the rocking chair, she whispered her goodnights to their daughter before kissing Erik. "Make sure that she falls asleep soon, dear."

"Don't worry," he replied, walking over to the small window as he held his child close. "Go along now, rest. I'll come in when she's slumbering." Nodding in agreement, she left the nursery and made her way back to their bedroom.

Waiting until he could hear the door to their room close, he turned back to his child as she began fussing in his arms. It was clear that she was far more comfortable in her mother's arms, but Erik was not going to allow that to bother him. "What is it you want, Jolee?" he asked quietly, his voice airy and soothing. "Are you hungry, my darling?" Jolee ignored him entirely and soon began crying.

"Don't be this way, dear," he whispered, watching as his voice seemed like a peaceful wave washing over her. However, as soon as he stopped so did her compliance. "Are you cold in here? Are you lonely? I'm here, _ma petite chérie_, don't cry." His patience, already thin to begin with, was wearing down as the bawling continued.

"Try seeing if she wants food," Christine suggested, her voice vibrating from down the hall.

"How can I tell?" he demanded, coming across louder than he had meant to. The sudden loud noise caused his child to cry out more, and he immediately began rocking her in an attempt to calm her again. "Shouldn't you be feeding her then?"

"You said you wanted to handle it," she replied calmly. "Check to see if she needs changing." Erik froze before slowly turning his gaze down to Jolee, horrified. Surely this was not something that _men_ did.

"I believe her to be in need of food," he said firmly. "And, that being the case, you are the one that must feed her."

Christine sighed, her voice closer than before as she moved out from their bedroom and walked towards the nursery. "What are you going to do if I'm not here one day?"

"You're a wife and mother now, Christine, you will _always_ be here," he snapped before gingerly placing Jolee back into her crib. Sighing in frustration, he breathed in some air in a weak attempt to calm himself down. However, as soon as he did a foul odor invaded his nose. _Of course_, he thought angrily.

"Well you're both a husband and a father now, so you should get used to this."

"You're the one with _experience_!" he retorted as she entered the room, instantly walking up beside the crib and picking up their screeching child. "Do you forget I've lived my entire life in an underground cavern? Who knows when I've ever held a child; much less take care of one in place of its mother."

"I have experience?" she questioned with slight amusement. "Barely. Here, I'll show you." Bouncing her daughter slightly, she smiled as Jolee's cries slowly turned into enchanted laughter as Christine walked with her over to a dresser and placed her down on the padded top.

Watching with interest, Erik followed closely behind her and continued to peer over her shoulder as she unhooked the pin keeping the cloth closed. "Do _all_ children do this?"

"Yes." She turned her head to look up at him, an amused look on her face. "You did too, at one point," she informed him before moving the diaper away from Jolee.

Erik rolled his eyes, clearly amused at the thought. "No, my dear, we all know that Hell spit me out of it's searing flames and into the world already knowing it's trails," he scoffed, still watching with interest as Christine took out a new cloth and placed the soiled one off to the side. Unable to help himself, he wrinkled his nose at the thought of having to wash the horrid thing. Blood, tissue, and other such items was one thing, but the waste that people produced was something he abhorred. Secretly, he took enjoyment in the fact that, during his days of killing, he never had to clean up after the mess they caused.

"Oh, I'm so sure that's true," she replied, rolling her eyes in return as she cleaned Jolee up. "So you have no parents?"

"I never had any, _mon amour_, you know that," Erik explained, his eyes gazing at his child as she grabbed for a little stuffed animal resting near the corner and began squealing in delight as she placed the fake lamb in her mouth.

Christine placed the new diaper on Jolee, closing up the pin before picking up Jolee and turning to face Erik. "Of course you did. You're a human being."

"My father died before my mother- if one could call her that- reluctantly brought me into this world. She then proceeded to rid herself of me when she could no longer stand it. Plain and simple as that."

Christine stared at him, her mind drawing a blank on what to reply. Feeling a sharp pain in her head, she looked down to see that Jolee had taken hold of her hair and was pulling at it as a plaything. Carefully holding her in one arm, she reached up the other and pulled the brown strands out of her daughter's tiny grasp. "Well, I told you, you had parents," she said finally.

"One could hardly call them parents, dear," he pointed out before holding out his finger for Jolee. Her eyes lit up with delight as her small hands reached out and took hold of the digit before waving it around. "Madeleine wasn't anything like you..."

Christine glanced up at him curiously. "Her name was Madeleine?"

"Yes," he answered simply before reaching out and taking Jolee from her mother's arms. Holding her close, he smiled slightly as her large emerald eyes fluttered from sleep. "But I think 'demonic beast' suits her better." Christine was unable to stop her hand from lifting up to cover her mouth, trying to stop herself from laughing. When she had her face under control, she took a deep breath to try to be serious.

"What happened to her?"

"How should I know? She just dropped me off at the nearest freak show and disappeared from my life," he said. "May she be in horrid pain, wherever she may be." Turning from Christine, he walked over to his daughter's crib and gently placed her in it, watching with silent joy as she fell asleep once again. Jolee was just as perfect as her mother was.

"Poor Erik," Christine whispered, walking up behind him and hugging him tightly.

"It's fine, Christine," Erik assured, spinning around to embrace her. "I have you now."

"And our baby," she reminded him fondly. Erik smiled again, kissing the top of her head.

"How could I ever forget?"

"Have you ever thought of...finding her?" Christine asked quietly.

"Oh, yes, Christine, that makes _perfect_ sense," he said, his tone clearly mocking. "Let's find the woman that made my life hell."

"Maybe she regrets it?" Christine suggested.

"And maybe she would rather kill herself than be forced to bear witness to her _little angel_ again."

"Well..." she muttered, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. "Either way, you'll have closure." A laugh, deep and loud, erupted from her husband. Quickly she shushed him, worried about their daughter waking. Nevertheless, he did not stop, clearly finding the notion of receiving any sort of closure a ridiculous one.

"I'm so sure, my beloved. I'm sorry to tell you that you don't know me or my _mother_ very well."

Christine stared up at him, his words piercing straight to her heart. Blinking back tears, she pushed away from him, suddenly feeling sickened at being held. "I suppose not," she said sadly before walking out of the room.

"Christine!" he called out, following her. When she refused to acknowledge him, he frowned as she continued walking until she turned into their bedroom. Entering the room as well, he sighed heavily as she silently climbed into their bed. "My dear, it's not as easy as you or I would like it. I just find it...easier for me to stay detached from her. She made it more than clear that she didn't want me."

"If that's what you want..." she replied. Sighing again, Erik ran his hand through his hair as he tried to think of what to do. He should have known that she would get sensitive about the topic of his past.

"I'm sorry, Christine," he whispered, moving beside her. Gently taking hold of her hand, he was hopeful as she allowed him to pull her up and rest against him. "I never meant for you to know about any of that."

"I'm your wife," she told him, her head resting on his shoulder, "it's my job to know these things."

"But not the things that you'd be better off without knowing. My past is something far too pathetic and saddening for you to be forced to bear it with me."

"It's not pathetic! It's heartbreaking. And...it helps me understand you."

"Christine, to burden you with my ghosts is something I want to _avoid_ doing."

Reaching out her hand, Christine took hold of her husband's hand and gently pulled him back with her. Together, they fell into the comfortable bed while Christine remained close to him. Still having a hold of his hand, she brought it up to her cheek and pressed the palm beside it. Leaning her head into the touch, her eyes locked with his and she smiled slightly. "I understand, Erik. But if you ever change your mind, I'm here for you."

He could see the sadness in her eyes, the secret longing to help him. Inside his chest, his heart began to melt at the sight but his love for her grew stronger. After all, she had saved him from the consuming darkness and accepted him with open arms. Would it really hurt for her to know more about him and his past? Yes, it would be painful to open up hold wounds, but she would understand him more. Perhaps Christine could even help the scars that ravaged him.

"Are you sure you would want to know it?" he questioned. A small smile broke across his lover's face, and she pulled away only to return to his embrace with her head resting on him.

"Absolutely."

A defeated sigh escaping him, Erik leaned further into the bed as his hand reached up to thread his fingers in her hair. "I never knew much about how I came into this world. When I was a child, all that I had learned, I learned through Madeleine.

"My father was never around, and Madeleine did all that she could to make sure that I stayed in the dark. I would be left alone for days, my only toys being the occasional nail that would come up from the floorboards of my room. Madeleine would come in every once in awhile to give me what could barely be called a meager meal. Apparently, the fact that I was her child, no matter how much she denied it, was enough to keep me barely living. Every once in awhile, she would also allow me out of my prison and wander around the house. This usually happened when she was in a more...giving mood. Trust me, I may have been young but I was not a stupid child. I learned quickly that whenever I was submissive and remained silent that she would become happier. That, in turn, would give me just a sliver of freedom for a short while. And it was during one of my excursions that I learned about my father.

"When I was allowed out, Madeleine would lock herself up in her room, the one place I wasn't allowed to go, or go out for a short while. On the day that I learned about my father, she had decided that she was in need of some items and had left me to my own devices. I was...four years old at the time, and even more curious then most children. After a few hours of wandering about, my curiosity got the better of me and I went into Madeleine's room. Only one thing in the entire room interested me, and it was a dusty photo album that she had kept hidden under her bed. I skimmed through the pictures before claiming it as my own prize. In my mind, she would never learn of its new location because she had carelessly tossed it away only to be forgotten. Therefore, with my new treasure in hand I went into my room and quickly hid it under a loose floorboard I found during my many hours of boredom. By the time she came home, it was near impossible to find it."

Christine smiled at his memory, seemingly the only happy one of his childhood. "Did you ever look through it?"

"Of course I did," he said, smiling at her. "Later at night, when the demon had gone to rest, I crept out of my rag bed and took out the photo album. By the light of the full moon, I turned the pages of my new treasure. Though there were no names written down, I saw people from times past. Then, after some odd hours of looking, I found a picture of my mother, her stomach swollen like yours once was, standing beside a man I've never seen before."

"Your father?"

"Yes. I never learned his name, but the knowledge that I had one was enough for me. All my life Madeleine told me that I was the son of a demon, but the knowledge that my father was an actual person was enough to keep me going..." He stopped, his eyes distant as he recalled his gruesome childhood.

"He died before you were born, didn't he?" Christine whispered, reaching out her hand to grasp his.

Erik took a calming breath. "Near the back of the photo album was some old newspaper. It was the obituary section, and a short summary was near the bottom. Time and poor handling had caused most of the words to wear out, but I was able to learn that my father and Madeleine had been married for nearly ten years and he had just learned of Madeleine being with child when he died in a work-related accident. He was a well-known architect and had been crushed to death after one of the buildings he was working on broke down."

"That's horrible..." she muttered, hugging Erik tightly.

"I suppose," he replied quietly. "For only a year I was able to hide my prized possession until Madeleine discovered it. To say the least, she flew into a violent rage. I tried to protect myself, but she continued to screech and beat me until I could barely stand up. In her fury she constantly accused me of how I was the reason that my father had died and that I deserved everything brought upon me."

"How could that possibly be your fault?" Christine demanded angrily. Erik shrugged his shoulders in return.

"I think that she believed it to be my fault because my father was overworking himself so that he could afford my arrival. Perhaps she believed that if I wasn't conceived, he wouldn't have focused so much on his work and would have lived." He paused once again; taking a shaky breath as the memories came flooding back to him. "When I was born until the incident, Madeleine did everything within her power to keep any contact with me at a minimum. After she learned of my treachery, she avoided me as if I carried the plague. It wasn't until I turned the lovely age of six that she could no longer stand me. By then I was desperate for any sort of attention and had a tendency to do whatever it took to gain that. And, unfortunately, she knew that.

"One day, she came into my room and told me that she wished to take me out to a carnival. She said that she had seen the error of her ways, and that she wanted to get to know me so that we could start anew."

"What of your mask?"

"I had been given my first mask before I could even walk. So when Madeleine took me out, she claimed that she had to know me first before she could...grow 'accustomed' to my face. Nonetheless, her greed and hatred of me overcame her. Being the naive and desperate child that I was, I willingly believed her and allowed her to take me to the carnival. She permitted me to have some try joy for a few minutes before she informed me that we had to visit an old friend of hers. Madeleine took my hand, brought me to one of the many caravans, and introduced me as _The Devil's Child_. Naturally, she meant it in a passing manner, but my new owners would soon grow to adore the horror the name implied," he scoffed. Christine remained silent, although she could feel the anger practically radiating off his body.

"The next thing I knew, I was thrown into a cold metal cage while a rough bag and a few scraps of food were tossed at me. I watched in silence as my _mother_ sold me like livestock then left with a smile on her face and a handful of coins in her purse. That was the last time I've ever seen her."

"That's...there are no words, Erik." His only reply was to bend down slightly and kiss her forehead in an attempt to smooth over her worries. "You don't have to go on-"

"No, Christine, it's fine," Erik reassured, kissing her again before leaning back against the pillows that propped them both up. "I lost track of the years during the time I spent there, but it didn't mean a thing to me on the day that I was freed. It was a normal showing: draw in the crowd, introduce me, and force the bag that covered my face off then proceed to whip, beat, and torment me for the enjoyment of the paying customers. The thing that was different was the people that were drawn. On this particular day, the young ballet girls that worked at the nearby opera house had come to join in the festivities and one of them was the young Sorelli. When the crowd had left and the old gypsy had stepped into my cage to collect his tips, I took my life into my own hands and ended his. He was my jailer and my tormentor, and Sorelli witnessed him becoming my first victim."

"Well, if he was torturing you, it's fairly justified," Christine commented quietly. Erik fell silent, staring at her in disbelief at what she had said. A smirk slowly beginning to grace his features, he quickly buried his face in her hair as a few bits of laughter escaped him.

"You make think so, but you'd be the only one that thought so. My 'owners' viewed me as a mere animal that had attacked, so then he had to be put down. Though I don't know if it was out of pity, fear, or just a virtuous need to help, Sorelli helped me escape and brought me to the Opera Populaire. When she was safe from the carnival owners chasing her, she returned to me and informed me that this was to become my new home and that I was safe there. The rest, as they say, is history."

Reaching up, Christine tenderly kissed Erik before carefully reaching up to remove his mask. "You didn't deserve any of that," she whispered, kissing his cheek. "Thank you...for telling me."

"I can't hide anything from you, Christine, you know that," he replied.

"You did a pretty well with hiding when we first met," she teased playfully. Smiling at her, Erik bent down and kissed her before his hand reached down and rubbed her clothed stomach, his mind flashing back to when it was so swollen with their child. _His_ child. The one that his own mother believed would never have the chance of creating.

"That is true, but it wasn't long until you discovered the truth of my devious ways, _ma chérie_."

"You're not that horrid," she laughed. Placing her hand over his, she felt a small pang of melancholy at the thought that her baby was no longer there. Suddenly, she pulled away from Erik and left the room, hurrying to Jolee's room to check on her daughter. Walking up to the crib, she gripped the wooden bars as she looked down at her slumbering child.

Sighing sadly, Christine remained still as she continued to stare at her daughter before she felt Erik wrap his arms around her waist. "She's okay, love," he said, his words soothing as he rested his chin on her shoulder, looking at Jolee with her. "Come now, it's late. We should follow her example and sleep as well."

"I know..." she sighed. "I just wish that I could watch her forever."

Erik nodded his agreement. "Well, she's going to be with us for a long time."

"Until she gets married," she added.

"No, longer. She's not going to be marrying anyone."

"You can't stop her, Erik," Christine said reproachfully. "What if she falls in love? Yevon seems pretty cute," she said, smiling. With him pressed against her, Christine could easily feel his body go rigid at her words.

"I don't trust that boy, much less trust him to take care of my only daughter."

"Oh, Erik, _relax_," she admonished him. "I was only joking."

"Christine..." Erik whispered, his voice enchanting as he slowly turned her around so that he could hold her in his arms. "Christine, my beloved, please think of it through my eyes... After _years_ of longing for you in the shadows then, after you became the young woman you are now, trying to win your affections only to have them nearly stolen from me on several accounts, can you blame me for being unwilling to let my child be taken care of by anyone other than me, you, and her godmother? I have been scared far too often for my liking over losing you, I do _not_ want that same concern with Jolee.

"You won't lose her; you have at least eighteen years."

"I only trust the people I trust with our daughter just like I only trust myself to take care of _you_. Besides, I don't trust Meg's child. He is but a babe and already he has an air of mystery around him. Not to mention he strongly reminds me of the Vicomte."

"Erik, how can an infant remind you of a grown man?" She shook her head, slightly annoyed at his persistence. "Honestly..."

"The similarities are very apparent, Christine," Erik insisted.

"Similarites? Like what?" she asked dubiously.

Pulling away, Erik could not hold back the slight glare sent towards his wife. "I do not need to explain myself, Christine," he hissed before quickly turning and leaving the room.

"Oh, boy, here we go again," Christine sighed before following him out of the room. Expecting him to return to their room, Christine grew worried as he, instead, continued onward through the hallway. Unable to keep up with his long strides, she contented herself with staying a few feet back as she chased him down the hallway. Seeing him stop at a familiar door, she felt a dread grow inside her as she hurried to catch up to him. By the time she reached the door, Erik slammed the door in her face, leaving her stunned. The sudden quiet did not last long, as the silence was quickly replaced with the deafening sound of Erik's music. It had to be one of his own pieces, for the notes ensuing from the organ were both violent and chaotic, but had an almost heaven-like quality.

"Erik!" she called out, uncaring for waking Jolee for the loud music had already done the job. "Erik, you're upsetting the baby!" His reply was a sudden bang on the keys, which was so sudden that it caused her heart to nearly jump out of her chest. Down the hall, Jolee was screeching and crying, but the music only continued. The tempo grew fast-paced as the music reached its crescendo. "Erik, stop this!" she yelled, pounding against the door in a weak effort to draw his attention away. The air felt heavy around her, the intense music swirling around her as their child's cries accented the night.

"_Erik_!" She could hear his hands banging against the keys from the wrath boiling inside him, and it did not take long until the door was thrown open in front of her and his emerald eyes glared in fury at her.

"_What_?"

Christine glared back at him, determined not to let the chaos from before cause her emotions to become unmanageable. Erik was behaving like the spoiled child he could act like, and she knew that someone had to be the adult if any of the situation was to be salvaged. "You made your daughter cry," she explained, Jolee's screams down the hall highlighting her words.

"She is a child, Christine," he growled. "'Babies cry'," Erik said before pulling back and slamming the door once more in her face before she had the chance to say any more. Huffing in irritation, Christine gave up on trying to calm her husband down and instead focused on her child. Storming up to the nursery, she quickly picked up Jolee and tried to quiet her down as she squirmed and screamed in her arms.

"Shh, darling, it's fine," she soothed, bringing her over to the rocking chair and sitting down in the comfortable seat. "Daddy didn't mean it," she whispered, gently pushing herself back in forth in the chair as she held her daughter. As she tried a vain attempt at bringing her daughter back to sleep, she heard the faintest melody floating through the house. Smiling, Christine watched as the soft melody Erik was now playing quietly lulled Jolee back into sleep's welcoming embrace.

* * *

The night after the lavish party Henri's family threw, Felicity was thankful to wake up alone in her bed. Rubbing her eyes, she forced herself out of the large bed she had collapsed into and walked up to her armoire. Quickly changing, she stepped up to her vanity and quickly put up her hair and was about to leave but was stopped as a white piece of paper caught her eyes. Reaching out to the paper, she nearly felt her stomach drop and her head began to throb as she read the note.

_Dear Wife, I do apologize for not being here with the morning sun, but do not believe that I did not enjoy our night together. Perhaps I should start bring you out to parties more often._

Felicity blushed, her mind recalling the night previously. After seeking refuge in her room, she requested a bottle of wine to drown out the frustrations that Aida stirred in her. It took hardly more than a few glasses for her head to start swimming, and during the time of her stupor Anthony had decided to join her. As expected, he took advantage of her in her weakened state, except in her mind she believed him to be the man she truly longed for. In turn, she responded to his touch and welcomed her to her bed. Now that the morning sun shone light onto what had happened, Felicity could only curse herself for her stupidity.

_Besides all that, I am afraid that important business called me away. As you know, Father is not doing well and I believe that it is my noble duty to capture the man that caused him to fall so far. To achieve this, I am going out with some of my friends to search for any evidence. Maybe even mingle with Parisian society to learn some things. Either way, I will not be returning home until nightfall. Aida should be occupied with Henri for today, so you will have a day to yourself. Do not enjoy it too much, though, for a still need to sire an heir and I am sure that you are required to help. Till Later, Anthony_

Scowling at both the letter and herself, Felicity crumbled up the note and tossed it aside before going out into the hallway. Could she get no peace from that man? Storming down the grand staircase, she turned towards the breakfast room and was ready to request some food but was stopped as she heard humming. Looking around curiously, she soon found the source of the noise and walked up to the door separating them. Quietly opening it, Felicity peered inside to see Aida humming to herself as she wrote random words down as a list.

"Congratulations," she said, closing the door behind her. Aida turned around, looking at her in both curiosity and confusion. "For the proposal. I am sure that you will be happy with Henri."

"Social customs dictate that I say thank you..." she muttered, staring at Felicity with a slight look of contempt. "Thank you," she repeated before quickly turning back to her list. Slightly miffed at her sister-in-law's simple brush off, Felicity persisted in an attempt to be a 'good' sister-in-law. "So you must be excited," she said. "What are you writing down? Is it for the...the wedding?" she questioned, barely able to pass the last word through her lips as she stepped closer.

"Yes," Aida replied, not looking up this time. "A to-do list."

Felicity moved to sit down beside Aida, smiling kindly as she peered at the list. From the brief glance she had so far, the wedding was to be far more extravagant and full of love than Felicity's own modest wedding. "Is there any way I could help? It seems this is going to happen soon, and I'm sure that you'll want all the help you can get."

"You can take this menu to the cook," she said, ripping out another piece of paper and handing it to her.

"Oh..." she muttered, glancing down at the list. There had to be at least a million different dishes, and Felicity felt a headache grow from looking at it. To say she pitied the servants of the Lafayette estate was not even beginning to state her feelings. "Is there anything else that I could help you with?"

"Actually, I think I'll go and get ready now." Aida quickly gathered up her things before turning to Felicity and smiling. "Henri will be here soon, and I want to appear my best for him."

Remaining silent, Felicity watched as Aida stood up and left the room without a second word. Sighing in defeat, she quickly found the nearest maid and kindly requested her to send the list down to the cook. After the task was done, she heard the chiming of a bell and watched from the shadows as one of the servants opened the door to Aida's fiancé. Instantly, Felicity's heart went pounding as he smiled and thanked the maid. A blush appeared on her cheeks as she thought of the previous night and her wanton thoughts.

"Felicity?" Henri asked, his voice suddenly appearing in front of her. Holding back a shriek, Felicity looked up to see Henri standing in front of her, a slightly confused smile on his face. _Why does he always have to smile?_ she thought, still feeling the heat on her cheeks.

"Hello, Henri," she stammered, trying to curtsy but finding herself unable to properly do it. "A-Aida just went up, s-she'll b-b-be down in a moment."

"That's the thing. You see..." he quickly looked over his shoulder, making sure Aida wasn't walking down towards them that second, "I was wondering if I could talk?"

"O-Of course, Henri!" she said, taking his hand in both of hers. "Y-You can talk to me a-about anything!"

"Great," he said, smiling. "This has been really bothering me, and I didn't know who I could talk to. It's just... well, the Duval family is not as well off as the Lafayette, yes?"

"I certainly couldn't deny that," Felicity replied with slight bitterness, but Henri seemed oblivious as he continued.

"That's the thing! Even though the Duvals have their fair share of wealth and status, it certainly isn't enough for a person who has grown accustomed to a life of luxury."

"Oh, Henri, you needn't concern yourself with adjustment like that. I'm sure that-"

"I'm worried that Aida will not be happy with me. I certainly can give her some things, but not all that she has grown to expect naturally."

"Aida..." Felicity muttered, feeling her hopes quickly dashed. "Of course, Aida. Don't worry, I'm sure that she'll have her father give her an allowance or something..."

"You think so?"

"I'm positive..."

Henri smiled warmly, embracing Felicity and hugging her as they use to do when they were children. "Thank you so much, Felicity. You really helped me," he whispered happily. Hearing footsteps approaching, he quickly kissed her hand in thanks before turning to greet Aida as she entered the foyer. "Henri!" she said happily as he walked up to greet her, taking her hand in his and kissing her cheek.

"The world has turned brighter and more beautiful upon seeing you."

Aida giggled, lifting up her hand to cover her mouth. "I've already accepted your proposal, you don't need to keep complementing me," she teased him playfully.

"Why should I stop? Your beauty cannot be surpassed by any," he said, kissing her as he twirled her around the marble floor. "Today I was thinking about a nice ride out in the country. Is your brother home?"

"I believe so," Aida said before turning around to face Felicity, still hidden in the shadows. "Felicity, is Anthony home?"

"No," she muttered. "He left earlier for a meet up with some old friends."

"Well, do you want to go in his place?" Henri suggested.

"Oh, yes, Felicity, come riding with us!" Aida said giddily.

"I couldn't go, I'd merely get in the way," she replied, nervously laughing.

"Felicity, why would you say that? Of course you wouldn't!"

"Really, I couldn't. You are both engaged now, go on alone," Felicity insisted, blushing now as she tried to escape the room. However, Aida would have none of it, and a cold smile graced her lips as she stared at the younger girl.

"Very well, if you insist. I believe Anthony will be home in awhile, so you shouldn't be alone for too long. You've a busy night, from what I've heard."

"O-On second thought," she stammered, wringing her hands worriedly as she turned to face Aida, "a horseback ride in the country sounds wonderful. I believe that you have a riding outfit that I could borrow, yes Henri? I'll change once we get there. Shall we go now?"

"Yes, let's," she agreed, linking Henri's arm in hers before walking off with him towards his waiting carriage. Quickly grabbing her coat, Felicity followed the couple and stepped into the carriage, sitting across from them. Though this was better than waiting at the estate alone for her tormentor to return, she still felt awkward around the couple. The man she held strong feelings for had fallen completely in love with her husband's sister, a rude and vain woman, but he was blissfully unaware. Every time she saw them together she had to bite back tears, and now was no different. As she stared at the couple, conversing with each other in hushed whispers and stealing kisses, her heart ached. Whom was she fooling? Aida was beautiful, every man's desire, and she was nothing but a young woman turned away by her own parents. If anything, she should have seen someone like Anthony coming.

Secretly, Felicity did wish that Henri would soon see the light and discover that Aida was not the perfect angel he believed her to be. Then he would come to her, falling over his words of forgiveness and shame. But that was nothing more than what they were: dreams. With the way things were, it seemed that nothing ever would go right in her life.

* * *

E: Happy New Years

C: And welcome back to school, for those of you still in it.

E: *groans* Which we are.

C: Anyway... We both hope that you thoroughly enjoyed the chapter, despite how late it was updated.

E: Be happy! At least I wrote a chapter! My other stories have basically been on hiatus, without the informing that is, and some people truly believe me to be dead, la de da.

C: Could you be just a little more concerned with that?

E: I see no reason not to.

C: *sighs* Alright, then. Please review and I'll make sure that this _indolent_ writer of ours will start updating more frequently.

E: *taps elbow* What does 'indolent' mean?

C: *smiles* Kind and gentle and very industrious.

E: *glares* I'm not an idiot, Christine. I can tell when malice is used in a word.

C: Oh, look at that. It seems that we have to go. Until next time.

E: We hope to see you all next chapter. *watches as Christine walks off* Hey! I'm not done with you yet!


	30. An Innocent Beginning

E: ...Am I dead? ...Am I alive? _Who knows_!

C: Hello again everyone. As I am sure, you have all been wondering if Erik was ever going to write the next chapter. Shocking to all of us, he did.

E: *holds up little doll that looks eerily like Scarlett from Gone with the Wind* Hello, my little troll. *strokes doll's hair in a creepy fashion* You have been a _very_ naughty girl. Complaining about my story without really talking about the story. We all know reviews are used for constructive criticism and praise. Did you learn nothing from your teachers?

C: Confused yet? Basically what happened is we have our first 'troll'. She's not really a troll by definition, but Erik has gotten the thought inside his head so I am forced to bear with his complaining.

E: Even if she's not, it's rude! *goes back to doll* What were your complaints again, my darling? The opera house was not named the Opera Popularie, I made my readers feel sorry for either story-Erik or me-Erik, and that everyone hated Raoul? *suddenly goes silent, grinning evilly*

C: Oh boy, here we go...

E: *ahem* Let us begin the explanation! *throws aside the doll* Where to begin, oh, where to begin?

C: Erik..._please_...just drop it.

E: I have been source of scorn and I demand _revenge_!

C: This isn't revenge, this is you being an idiot again.

E: I digress... I might as well start from the beginning. So, my little troll, I do ever so much hope that you are listening because I am doing all of this just _for you_! *clears throat again* I will start with your 'Opera Populaire' comment-review-thingy. The reason why some fanfiction authors write the building as the Opera Populaire is that, in the 2004 movie version of Phantom of the Opera, _it is the name of the freaking building!_

C: *picks up Jolee and leaves the room*

E: It was named the Opera Populaire, I do not know why, but that was the name it was given by the directors and Andrew Lloyd Webber. Actually, I do know that the actual opera house is currently named the Opéra Garnier. But in all actuality during the time that the Phantom of the Opera was the headlining news, the opera house was not even inaugurated yet! The Opera Garnier was not an official building until 1875, and at the time was named the Académie Nationale de Musique. It was not until 1989 that it was renamed the Opéra Garnier.

C: *calling out from the other room* Could you please hurry? Jolee is fussing.

E: Yes, dearest, I'll hurry up. Continuing, I have _never once_ purposefully made my readers feel sorry for Erik. In the story, yes, I put him through crap but it's because it is needed to future plot lines. The situations he got into he chose himself (through me playing as him, I suppose) so the outcomes were to be expected. Whether people decided to feel sorry for him or not was completely their own decision. Now, to explain myself I hope that you will not mind that I repost your review on here:

S*************r (2011-01-28 . chapter 3)

Whenever authors want people to feel sorry for Erik they make him speak in third person... ex. 'Erik loves Christine, Erik would never hurt Christine...'

E: To quickly explained, I blocked the name because I do not want you being known. Seeing as your did not even bother to sign in with your own account and be labeled as anonymous, which to me means that you are a coward, I will continue that just for you. *smiles*

C: Erik, what have I told you about playing nice?

E: I am playing nice! *mumbles incoherent words pertaining to Christine being unfair and one time with the Punjab* Anyways! Just so you know, this is what you get for doing that. I cannot reply to you personally, so I am going to do it in my author's notes. And if some of my readers get a good laugh out of it, all the better. Anyway, the reason _I_ talk in third-person as Erik is because, let's face it, I'm slightly insane. All writers go insane at one point or another, it's just the natural order of things. Plus I do it just because I freaking feel like it and it's useful for a few good laughs. Now, onto your last little point then Christine will see you all off to the long awaited chapter. Last point here, and it is concerning everyone's favorite fop.

C: *picks up Jolee again and walks out of the entire building* I'll be back when you're done.

E: First, I would like to state that not _everyone_ hates Raoul. Just...most phantom writers. Now, the reason why is different for every person. I could go on and on about all the different reasons, but I will spare you all that and just state my personal reason. The reason why _I hate_ Raoul is because he is one of the most annoying characters I have ever seen! He's almost worse than Anthony is Sweeney Todd and Marius from Les Misérables! Not only is he pompous and arrogant, he thinks he can walk in and everything he wants will just magically work out. In the book, he's crying almost every page! Oh, and I almost forgot. It is so romantic and masculine to say you will protect the 'love of your life' then proceed to fall asleep on the job. Also, when a passionate killer is in front of you with murder on his mind, _you do not turn around to watch the gate close_! _Either you have a death wish or you are a complete idiot if you ever do that_! *begins to savagely rip apart Author's Notes Studios in a fit of anger*

C: *takes out a megaphone after handing Jolee off to her godmother* Erik! Calm down right this instant! You are frightening your daughter and your readers, most likely, as well!

E: *takes several deep breaths before surveying the damage around me from the blinded rage* Oh, my...

C: Are you calm now?

E: I'm...not sure...

C: *clicks off the megaphone* I think I'll just leave him there for a while. Sorry everyone for this. Please, enjoy the chapter.

* * *

Roses of Life

* * *

As the extravagant carriage that belonged to the Lafayette family pulled up to the large building that Henri Duval called home, the only son of the Duval family and his new fiancée were still completely oblivious to everything except the person they were enamored with. By the time either of them was even remotely aware that the small group had arrived at their destination, the carriage had come to a halt. Smiling in an apologetic manner to Felicity, Henri quickly stepped out of the carriage and held out his hand to help Felicity out. Though he noted that she seemed shy to touch him at first, the thought disappeared as she hurried inside and Aida's hand replaced hers. Seeing that Felicity was remaining by the door, waiting for them, he smiled and waved to her. Turning back to Aida, he watched as her foot slipped on the light snow covering the carriage steps and suddenly fell. Quickly Henri stepped forward and caught her before she made contact with the snow-covered gravel.

"How clumsy of me!" Aida exclaimed, slightly laughing from nervousness. "But thank you for catching me," she added sweetly, kissing his cheek. Blushing slightly, Henri smiled at her before quickly setting her down on the ground. Turning to face the door, he watched with interest and confusion as Felicity glared at Aida before turning from the couple.

"Do you get along well with Felicity?" he asked with concern as his childhood friend disappeared behind the front doors, seeming in tears.

"Oh, I suppose. I don't think she likes me very much, though," Aida said, glancing away in remorse and sighing. "I suppose it's just my fault..."

"Don't say that!" Henri exclaimed, turning fully to Aida and placing his hands on her cheeks, forcing her to look at him. "It's not your fault. You're wonderful and beautiful and just...perfect." Aida had the grace to blush at his words and smiled. "It's Felicity...I don't know what happened to her. I remember her to be very kind and open with people."

Aida shrugged her shoulders in doubt. "I think she's still upset about having her life changed so suddenly. Perhaps she thinks she has no friends?"

"That's ridiculous. She's been married nearly eight months now. Why would she be upset? Your brother is a good man," he said, baffled at what Aida was telling him for an explanation.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe all that time as a ballet girl in the Opera Populaire changed her. What with all those loose dancers and perverted stagehands running about." Shaking her head, she quickly dismissed the subject before moving close to Henri, letting him gently stroke her hair as they walked inside together. "But let's not talk about sad things. Do you have a date yet for the wedding?"

"Preferably soon, seeing as I don't know how much longer I'll be able to stand by society's orthodox manners. But I'll leave the official date up to you, dearest." In response, she stared up at him in confusion, although inside her heart was fluttering. Henri seemed to always speak so gracefully. Her fiancé chuckled, leaning his head down closer to her ear to the point that his lips brushed again the lobe. "What I meant...was that I don't think I can wait too long for our wedding night to come, Aida."

"Oh, Henri!" she giggled, playfully hitting him as her cheeks turned bright pink. She felt his lips move from her ear to press a kiss against her burning skin before he pulled away and held the door open for her.

Henri kissed the top of her head before closing the door behind them. "Go and change into a riding outfit, Aida. I'm sure that there's more than one upstairs. Just find Felicity, she's probably changing now. I'll wait for the two of you at the stable with the horses." Kissing her one last time, he headed up the stairs with Aida beside him before parting down a separate hallway. Remaining quiet, Aida traveled down the way that Henri had instructed her and walked into a spare room, with only a single chair, table, and wardrobe, where Felicity was standing. She had already changed into a grey riding outfit and was currently buttoning up her jacket. The harsh cold was still surrounding the world, and with the dead winter upon them, Henri had made sure that warm dresses were left behind for Aida and Felicity to wear.

Glancing up at Aida, Felicity could see that a victorious smirk was placed on her pink lips as she walked past her and quickly picked out a green riding habit. "Why must you continue to rub salt into my wounds?" she quietly asked, patting down the full skirt as she sat down in the only chair in the room. The other woman glanced up at Felicity, a look of surprise on her face.

"What are you talking about?" Aida innocently asked.

"That little trick you did with Henri."

"What trick? I didn't mean to fall, but he makes my knees go weak," she answered, smiling happily as she laid out the dress on a table.

"Oh, I'm _so_ sure that you have no idea what I'm talking about," Felicity hissed, resentment replacing all of her emotions as Aida looked around, apparently wondering where the maid was to help her change. "You know I like him, Aida," she explained, her eyes beginning to sting. "You just enjoy watching me _suffer_!"

Suddenly looking up, Aida remained quiet for a short moment, as if listening to something, before suddenly bursting into tears. The thick drops of water rolled down her face, leaving trails on her cheeks, as they turned red. Felicity could only stare, confused as to why Aida would do something as pathetic as cry. It amazed her, slightly, that Aida even had to capability to cry. "Why would you think that, Felicity?" she sobbed, rubbing the heel of her hand into her eyes in an attempt to stop the crying. "I'm just trying to reach out to you as a sister! How could you be so cruel?" Aida asked, covering her face as the tears continued.

Shocked into silence, Felicity could only stare in confusion. But the emotion was quickly replaced as Henri quickly ran into the room, flying instantly to Aida and holding her close. "Oh, Henri, thank god you're here!" Felicity exclaimed, standing up as he muttered incoherent words to his fiancée. "You will not believe the horrid words that Aida-"

"No, I don't believe it!" he snapped, cutting her off entirely as his head snapped up to glare at her. The sudden violence scared Aida slightly. Although she knew Henri to be a perfect gentleman, she would never have thought she would see the day that he would break a social rule by cutting her. "Honestly, Felicity, what has happened to you? You use to be so kind! But now... blaming your sister for your own faults. She's just trying to help you, Felicity!"

"N-N-No, Henri, y-y-you're mistaken," she stammered.

"I know what I heard. And, to be quite frank, I don't even know what to say to you. I don't know what happened to you, but you've become heartless," he spat before turning to Aida again. "Come on, darling, I'll get someone to help you change into your riding habit," he whispered, grabbing the dress Aida set down before leading her out of the room. Remaining quiet, Felicity could only stare blankly, tears beginning to cloud her vision, as Aida glanced over her shoulder to see her and smiled.

* * *

Awaking the next morning, Erik found himself slumped over the keys of his organ, papers filled with angry notes and incomplete songs surrounding him and a massive headache. Managing to lift his head, he pressed the palm of his hand against the exposed side of his face as he scowled. "Christine!" he called out, forcing himself to stand up from the piano seat. His whole body screamed in protest at his movements, but he ignored the soreness and exhaustion as he climbed the stairs leading into his own heaven. "Christine?" he called out again, his eyes hurting from the light suddenly flood his senses.

By the time he had regained his sight, he saw Christine exit their room and move towards him. "Oh, good morning, dear," she said, her voice purposefully raised. "Come with me to get Jolee. You remember her, don't you? Your daughter?"

"I know who our child is, woman, quit screeching," he growled, holding his aching head as he quickly walked past her towards the bathroom. As he entered the small room, he walked up to the basin of water and removed his mask before splashing the water on his face. In the background he could hear his daughter begin screaming and Christine trying to coax Jolee to silence. It did not take long for Christine to appear in front of the only exit, Jolee held defensively in her arms.

"What possessed you to play booming music in the middle of the night while your newborn was sleeping?"

"I lulled her back to sleep later, no?" he questioned through gritted teeth.

"We're not talking about what you did later!"

"Well, I am," he retorted. "She went back to sleep, problem resolved," Erik stated before pushing past her and walking into their bedroom.

"But now she's behind on her sleep and cranky!" Christine snapped. Watching as Erik replaced his mask and proceed to get dressed in warmer clothes, she glared at him. "Where are you going?"

"Out," he hissed. "And as for Jolee, since you're the mother it's your problem."

Christine stared at him in silence, her gaze showing just how upset she was with him. Stepping up to him as he hooked his cape over his shoulders, she placed Jolee into his hands. "Well, as the mother, I say that it's now your problem," she said calmly before storming off. Glancing down at his daughter, he huffed in irritation before moving quickly to her room to grab a warmer blanket.

"Come along then, Jolee," he spat before leaving the house into the world frozen over outside. Holding Jolee close to him, he trudged through the snow until he reached the entrance into the labyrinth that he once called his home. Stepping inside, he navigated easily through the made twists and turns and dead ends until he arrived in the cave that was once his home.

"See, darling?" he whispered as he walked towards the separate room that held the bed where he spent his nights alone. "This is where your father lived his wretched life. Until Christine's love showed me a better life," he explained as he carefully placed her on the silken sheets. Jolee only looked up at him, her large eyes that were so alike to his staring at him, as she waved her tiny fists. Chuckling slightly, Erik removed the heavy winter clothes that protected him from the elements before picking up his daughter once again. "How about Daddy shows you the theater? You're going to be here with your mother and me when you're older anyway," he said.

Exiting the room, Erik found the boat that had ferried him through the entire underground labyrinth of the Opera Populaire so long ago. Stepping inside it, he kept a tight hold on his daughter as he began to guide the boat through the water-filled tunnels. When he arrived at his destination, he quickly stepped out and made his way through the rest of the tunnels before arriving near the catwalks in the Opera Populaire. Gazing down at the ballet and chorus moving below him, he noted with some delight that they were rehearsing for the newest opera this season.

_I'll have to make some changes if they're going to get any money from it_ he thought as he held Jolee up slightly, making sure she could see the world just below them. As he was pointing out how everything worked in the opera house, despite that fact that he knew it would be unlikely if she remembered all of it, Erik watched as Carlotta appeared shrieking in Italian, as per usual. "And that, my child," he said, pointing to the red-haired woman, "is what we in the theatre call a 'screeching cow'."

Hearing his daughter start to whimper, he held her close as he rocked her slightly. "Yes, she is scary, I know. But we need to learn how to stand up to her and shove her back in her pen." Hearing footsteps behind him, he turned his head in time to watch as Sorelli walked up to him.

"What are you doing?" she sighed, seeing Erik visibly relaxed at the sight of her.

"Teaching my child the ins and outs of the world."

"You know, at first, I was concerned about the kind of influence you would be, but now I feel reassured."

"Is that sarcasm?" he demanded, glaring up at the older woman. "Christine already made me the fool by babysitting today, I don't need you mocking me as well." Turn back to look down at the stage. "You see, daughter, your wonderful mother is the true star of this theater. The shrieking harlot down there is just a spoiled brat. Hopefully she'll be fired before you begin to work alongside your mother."

"Already planning her future, I see," Madame Giry noted.

"Well, that _is_ what's going to happen to her. She'll start out as a dancer first, just like Christine."

"Will the public know that she's Christine's daughter? Or that she's your daughter too?"

"Christine's only. The rumors of the high class are more forgiving to a bastard child than the child of a notorious killer," he spat.

"But wouldn't it ruin Christine's reputation?" Sorelli questioned.

"Then she adopted her," Erik replied calmly. "Or I could be her English lover again. _Sven_ would be glad to play the father," he said with resentment before gazing down at his daughter. "Would you like that?" Jolee merely entertained herself by grabbing at the buttons on his waistcoat. Smirking slightly, he gently took hold of her hand and pulled it away. "When you're older and with someone, sweetheart," he whispered. Pouting slightly, Jolee wrapped her hand around his finger and waved it around. Leaning down, he gently kissed the top of her head before looking up at Sorelli. "How did you even get up here?"

She lifted an eyebrow, surprised he was asking such a question. "Same way you did. I climbed."

"In a dress? That's rather unseemly..."

"What is your problem today?" Sorelli asked, moving closer so that she could peer at the small child he was holding.

Erik sighed. "Christine's in a foul mood and assigned me to care for our daughter today."

"Why is she in a bad mood?"

"Something about waking our child and making her lose sleep. I think she's just fine, though."

"You shouldn't wake a sleeping baby, Erik," she admonished.

"I lulled her back to sleep later! She's just fine..." he muttered, carefully picking Jolee up so that he could properly look at her. "What was it your mother said? Something about you needing sleep..." he shrugged his shoulders, bringing her back down. "All I know is that children sleep so that they may grow properly."

Sorelli chuckled. "Not when you want them to."

"Jolee knows better," he replied, smiling slightly at his daughter as she stared up at him and reached out her small hand toward him, waving it around for attention. "Being my daughter, she is incredibly well-behaved." Still watching from behind him, Sorelli remained quiet as Jolee's attempt at gaining attention was in vain as her father was too preoccupied with both the opera house and herself. Smirking, she watched as the newborn's face turned red and she started whimpering.

"I can see that..." she said, watching as the little girl began fussing. Sighing, Erik disregarded her words but gazed at Jolee with a frown. Holding out a gloved finger for her, he turned back to Sorelli as Jolee inspected the clothed digit before squealing in delight and place it in her mouth.

"If I had known a child would be like this," he muttered, glancing at Jolee as the leather dampened from the salvia, "I would have left Christine well enough alone."

"That's what they all say, but you know it was bound to happened," Sorelli said happily.

"How is your own child?"

"She's doing a well. A bit tired from the late nights, but she truly loves that baby."

"Wonderful..." Erik muttered, staring down at his child as she sucked on his finger. "Are you planning to have her visit Christine today?"

"If she's not already there," she replied, shrugging her shoulders.

"If it safe for her to be going out on her own? She and the babe could easily fall into one of my many traps," he said, sounding almost delighted.

Sorelli glared slightly down at him, showing that she did not approve of the tone of voice he used. At times, it seemed to her as if she had two children to take care of. "She knows not to take the passage through the cellar."

"I've other traps," Erik stated proudly. "I just think that it would be a tragedy if a very...beautiful baby boy and his young mother ran into an _accident_."

* * *

Knocking on the door, Meg smiled brightly as Christine opened the door excitedly and ran up to hug her friend, little Yevon held close to both of them. "Being held captive against your will today?" Meg teased after they parted.

"No. I didn't like his attitude so I handed Jolee off to him and banished him for the day," she replied, laughing as she quickly ushered Meg inside, the bitter cold nipping at their backs as the door was closed.

Laughing together at the joke, Meg quickly dropped Yevon in Jolee's room before joining Christine in the kitchen as she warmed up some water to make tea for the two of them. "Mama's been keeping me captive in the house all day, too. It's been practically a month since I've gone anywhere _interesting_."

"You had to go to the midwife's house for Yevon."

"Exactly," Meg pointed out. "And I don't understand why she couldn't have done it herself. That's how Jolee is here now, right?"

Christine giggled, able to hear Yevon's high-pitched screams of delight as he discovered Jolee's collection of stuffed animals in the crib. "I think it's because it would've just been her. She would've needed someone beside her just in case something went wrong."

"Well, either way I want to get out. Let's explore Paris! I'm sure that Erik won't even notice that you're gone, him being banished and all," she chortled.

"I don't see why not. We're both mothers now, so I'm sure that we'd be just fine without an escort," Christine said, sitting down at the kitchen chair thoughtfully. "What about Yevon?"

"I'll just put him in something warm of Jolee's and take him with us. I don't mind carrying him."

"But people would think-"

"Christine," Meg smiled, "it's fine. I'm a ballet dancer, and an unmarried mother at that. People will look and think anyway."

Smiling back at Meg, Christine sighed before standing up. "Let me change into something warmer, then, and leave a note should Erik decide himself that he can return home." Leaving after Meg nodded her agreement, she made her way to the bedroom where Erik and her slept in peace. Walking up to the armoire, she quickly picked out a heavy dress and an even heavier coat and quickly dressed into it. When she finished, she grabbed a scrap of paper and, heading out into the parlor, placed it down on the side table and scratched a quick note for him.

_Erik, went out with Meg. Don't overreact, I'll be fine on my own._

_Love, Christine_

Once she finished the simple note, she walked up to Meg smiling brightly as her friend held the small but lively baby close. "You sure you're up to moving around?" Meg asked, recalling how it was just a few days ago that she had given birth.

"I'm fine, Meg, truly. Now come on, let's go!" she said excitedly as she took her scarf and quickly wrapped it around her head, hoping that it was enough not to be noticed. Although she and Erik knew that Marcel's investigation was growing cold, they were still cautious about being recognize anywhere. Smiling at her friend, they both walked hand in hand out of the house. As they traveled through the underground chambers of the Opera Populaire, Christine showed Meg a side route that led directly out into the streets. When questioned about it, Christine could only laugh and share a secretive wink as she explained how Erik had shown her before Jolee was born.

After the small party had moved far enough from the opera house, Christine breathed a deep sigh of relief. It had been a long time since she had last wandered the city. As her and Meg danced around the stone streets, gazing at different windows with their brightly colored merchandise. As her and Meg chatted, she noticed out of the corner of her eye a familiar person. Thinking it to be Erik or, worse, Madame Giry, she quickly turned to identify the person. Instead, she was greeted with the sight of the woman she talked to so many months ago while she had found herself beside the Seine. "Meg, look!" she whispered, grabbing her friend and forcing her to look at the woman as she talked to took her purchased items from the vendor.

Moving quickly, she approached the aged woman and lightly touched her arm so that she would notice her. "Excuse me, madame?"

As the woman looked up to her, she smiled almost instantly at the brunette. "Hello, dear. It's been awhile since I last saw you, hasn't it? Did you solve that problem of yours?"

"Oh yes, everything is much better now, thank you for all the help. I'm surprised you still remember me!" Christine replied, smiling warmly at the elder woman before an idea suddenly hit her. "Say, why don't you and your family come have dinner at my home? It's the least I could do to repay you!"

"Surely I can't," the woman said, laughing slightly. "What would your husband say on such short notice? Wouldn't he mind?"

"Of course not! He's very friendly," she assured, silently elbowing Meg behind her as she joined them, trying to tell her to remain quiet.

"Well... I suppose I see no reason not to. Where do you live, dearest?"

"Oh, we live outside of the city. You can come tomorrow afternoon! There's a little road that leads to it, but it might be tricky to find. It should be the one just about an hour on foot out of Paris on the left."

"Thank you, dear," the woman said, disregarding the other girl as she covered her mouth to stop from laughing. "I'll come then with my children. It was so nice seeing you again." Agreeing with the parting, Christine waved goodbye as the woman disappeared into the crowd before turning to face Meg. Her friend by now was laughing hysterically, causing some stares from people passing by.

"Would you like to come with tomorrow as well?" Christine asked, clearly knowing that Meg would appear the next day either way.

"Would I ever! Do you think I would honestly miss this? 'He's very friendly'. What a riot!" she exclaimed, giggling uncontrollably.

"Alright, so I exaggerated _just a little_. It won't be _that_ bad. There's no reason for Erik to freak out."

Meg smiled. "Whatever happened to 'he just doesn't like anyone'?" she asked between fits of laughter. "Oh, I hope for your sake he decides to come home late that night."

"Okay... maybe he'll be upset at first. But I'm sure he'll calm down once he realizes that she's the one who convinced me to come back to him." she reasoned.

"Christine, I barely know him and already I know he doesn't have the sanest logic. But come now, let's get you home. Maybe if you cook a wonderful meal, he might let it slide. As many women have told me, 'a way to a man's heart is through his _stomach_'!" Yevon squealed his agreement.

"You know, you could be a little supportive of me..." Christine muttered as they began heading back towards her home.

"Oh, I'm being _very_ supportive. I'm allowing you to carry out this insane plan, aren't I?" she teased. "But who knows? Maybe if you distract him enough he won't even notice the new company."

Christine giggled. "He _is_ easy to distract, I'll admit that much."

* * *

E: Did you enjoy my rant, dearest Scarlett?

C: Did you all enjoy the chapter that we believed would never come?

E: I hope you all did. I deeply apologize for the delay, truly I do! You know what, maybe if you all give me enough reviews I'll put up another chapter where our "mystery woman" appears at Christine and Erik's home. Guess who she is?

C: Anyway, thank you all for reading. Please review, and I'll make sure this idiot updates again soon.

E: Bye, everyone!


	31. An Unsettling End

E: Okay, sorry everyone but I need to make this quick because I'm so freaking tired!

C: Happy Mother's Day, everyone.

E: You are all going to hate Erik because I posted on this day for a very good reason. *smiles evilly*

C: So we're going to go on ahead and let you go.

E: *chuckles* Have fun…

* * *

Roses of Life

* * *

"Would you care to explain to me again why exactly I'm being forced out of my house?" Erik demanded, eying Christine suspiciously as she wrapped their daughter in a warm blanket to protect her from the biting wind that winter promised outside.

"You need to spend more time with Jolee, Erik," Christine explained with a smile. "You are her father, and I will not be left to take care of her until she gets married while you go off and do whatever your heart desires."

"I took care of her yesterday, though," he said, whining slightly as Christine walked up to him and placed Jolee in his arms.

"And all I'm asking is that you take care of her for another day while Meg comes over. I haven't seen her in so long, Erik, and having to constantly take care of Jolee would only be bothersome. Just for one more day?" she pleaded, placing a hand on him as stared up at him. As soon as Erik glanced down at her, he sighed and bent down to kiss her.

"Alright, Christine, I'll let you spend time with Meg," he replied, kissing her cheek as she hugged him. "I won't be gone long, though, just a few hours. And please keep your nosy friend out of my cellar," he added. Christine nodded her consent and Erik smiled as she bent her head down to kiss her daughter. "We'll be back soon. Enjoy your time before I hold you captive again," he said, his voice teasing as Christine walked with him to the front door.

Grinning, Christine kissed him one last time before reassuring all of his worries and waving him goodbye. Waiting until she could no longer see her husband, Christine closed the door against the bitter cold and quickly scurried into the kitchen and began taking out several different cooking items. She only had so little time until her guests would arrive and it had taken the better part of the day convincing Erik to go out. Even though she had assured the kind woman that Erik wouldn't mind guests, Christine was still well aware of his dislike for people and finally decided that it would be better that he remain unaware of these events.

By the time that Christine had a stew boiling over the iron stove, she heard a knock and quickly ran back to the door. "Come on, Meg, we don't have much time!" she said excitedly, laughing with her friend as they hurried inside. Christine returned to the kitchen while Meg went to put Yevon in Jolee's room before joining her friend.

"What do you need me to do?" Meg asked as she joined Christine side.

Handing her friend a knife and a few washed vegetables, she instructed Meg to quickly cut them and put them in the stew while she got out the dishes.

"Its times like these that I truly wish I had a maid," Meg said jokingly as she cooked food, turning to watch as Christine set the small table. "Do you have anything else cooking?"

"I had baked some fish earlier since Erik thought I should eat it. He's still expecting me to pass out any second since Jolee's birth," she said, laughing as she went beside Meg and opened a small oven door. Grabbing a cloth, she pulled out the fish and quickly put it on the table.

"Well, this stew seems about done, too," Meg said, taking the cloth Christine had and taking the pot off the stove top before placing it to the side to cool. "Honestly, Christine, I don't get how you can eat this much."

"Blame Erik, again," Christine said, laughing as she stood back to survey her work. When she deemed everything acceptable, she took a seat and sighed in relief. "They should be here any minute now."

"May I ask when Erik is coming back?"

"Hopefully long after they leave," she said.

"Well," Meg said, sitting down beside her friend, "we can always pray while we get you into something that doesn't make you look like a scullery maid." Christine couldn't stop laughing along with her friend as they both headed towards Christine room, chattering as they anxiously awaited the arrival of Christine's guests.

* * *

On the small dirt road that led to the small cottage Christine and Erik lived in, the woman the former had met in the market the other day walked down with her daughter. The two conversed quietly; keeping close to one another's side as they slowly approached the house. Although the older female seemed more than comfortable with the modesty of the house, the daughter sneered in disgusted and even seemed reluctant to place her foot on the steps leading up to the door.

"Now, I hope that you'll be on your best behavior as you always are while we're here. Just because your father and brother were unable to come doesn't mean that you are to appear any lower than you were raised to be," the mother said sternly as she reached up to rap against the door.

"Yes, Mother," the younger woman said. Glancing up at the cottage with great distaste, she muttered, "How simple," under her breath.

"Darling, please!" the other woman said as they both waited for the door to open. "She's not as blessed as we are. She's just a simple country girl."

Rolling her eyes, the raven-haired girl remained silent on the matter. As the door opened, she quickly plastered a smile on her face.

Christine smiled warmly and greeted her guests as she stepped aside to allow them in. "Hello! Please come in," she said. "This is my friend, Meg, and her son, Yevon," Christine said, walking over to her friend as the two exchanged pleasantries.

"It's so nice to see you. Is your husband hiding?"

"Oh, my husband and our daughter are out at the moment. But they should be back soon," she assured, leading the group into the small dining room that was adjacent to the kitchen.

"That's fine, dear, they can take their time," the elderly woman said with a kind smile as she took her daughter's arm and brought her forward. "This is Aida. My own husband and son couldn't make it, but perhaps another time?"

"Yes, that would be nice," Christine said, waiting for everyone to sit down before going to the kitchen and grabbing the cooled pot. As she walked back in and began filling up each person's bowl with the stew, the woman smiled at her.

"Is your daughter a baby like this adorable young man?" the woman asked, glancing at Yevon. When Christine nodded, she asked, "When did you give birth?"

"Just a few days ago, actually. I sent her father out today, though, so that he could get use to taking care of her. This is all new to him, and I thought it best he bond with her."

"Is he not the bonding type?"

"He…isn't very good with people. He had a difficult childhood," Christine explained as she set the pot down and left again to grab the fish.

"How so, if I may ask?"

"His parents were rather abusive."

"That's so tragic!" the woman exclaimed with much sadness. "That poor man, one could hardly imagine what he had to go through."

"Well, he's much happier no-" Christine was abruptly stopped as the sound of the front door opening then closing was heard. Giving a slightly nervous glance to Meg, her friend quickly stood up.

"Yevon's getting cranky. Please excuse me, I'll just go lay him down," she said quickly, walking out into the small foyer and walked up to Erik. "Whatever you do, don't lose your temper," she warned Erik before taking Jolee away from him and heading to the nursery.

When Christine arrived in the room shortly after Meg left, Erik glared slightly at the closed door that the floating sound of talking was easily heard from. Feeling Christine's hand touch him lightly, he turned his face away to gaze at her. "Who is here?" he demanded.

"I invited a friend over for dinner," she said quietly. "Please be nice."

"Is this why you got me out of our house? So you could bring people I don't know to _entertain_ them?"

"Erik," she said, pleading as she held both of his arms and placed herself between him and the door. "They aren't planning to kidnap me or steal from us or anything. I knew you would react like this, so I didn't tell you. But I promise you, they are _completely_ harmless."

Erik paused for a moment, still glaring at the door before he looked back down at her. "What kind of 'friends' are they?"

"The woman who convinced me to go back to you and her daughter," she explained, hoping that by revealing this tidbit of information he would calm down.

"Fine, Christine," he said after another weighted silence where he was clearly mulling over what he should do. "Go prepare your friends. I will not be made a spectacle of in my own home."

Relieved that he was at least willing to be polite, Christine nodded and quickly disappeared back into the dining room. As the two guests stared at her in confusion, she grabbed a wine bottle stored away in a cupboard and quickly poured them both a glass. "My husband's home and he'd like to come meet you. But please don't stare. He'll get mad if you do," she explained.

Aida sat up straighter in the chair, picking up the wine glass and sipping at it. This was getting interesting…

Taking a deep breath, Christine left the room again and, taking Erik's hand, led him into the dining room.

"Good afternoon, _Mesdames_," he muttered. "I'm pleased to meet any friend of my-" he stopped, though; as his eyes fell upon the last person he ever expected to see. No doubt the years had taken their toll on her body, but there was no way Erik would ever be able to forgot the woman that now sat comfortably in him home as if she had always belonged there. He could feel the fury inside of him quickly begin to boil over as he continued to stare at her face in disbelief before he could no longer stand to handle the turmoil that threatened to consume him should he remain silent.

The visible side of his face contorted in fury, he stormed up to the side of the table that the older woman sat and slammed his fist onto the wood, glaring fiercely at her. "_You_!" he shouted, causing the two younger women to jump in fright. However, the older woman continued to remain unfazed. "Get out of my house. Get _out_!"

"Erik!" Christine exclaimed, shocked at his sudden behavior as she ran up to him and tried pulling him away. "Why are you yelling at her? Erik, what did she do?" she questioned, confused as to what was going on as Erik stepped back. Although Christine had placed herself between the two in a weak attempt to control the situation, she could not ignore the fury radiating off her husband.

"Do I know her?" he questioned his wife quietly. "_Do I know her!_ Christine, this is that woman that made my life a living _hell_!" he said, shouting the last word. "I don't know how she got here. I don't care what she did or what kindness she showed to you, Christine. I want her gone before I dispose of her _myself_!"

"Well, Erik, it's nice to know you haven't changed much," the older woman said calmly, her eyes drawn to the white half-mask. "Appearances and otherwise."

Christine fell silent. All she could do was stare in horror now at the older woman as she realized why this woman so quickly became the source of her husband's fury. She recalled the story he told her of his mother just a few nights ago. The mother that beat him and blamed him for everything, the mother that sold him to a gypsy fair so that she may rid herself of her child. What did Erik say her name was again?

"Madeleine…?" she whispered in shock. "_This _is your mother?" Christine asked, quickly turning to face her fuming husband.

Glancing at her daughter, Madeleine sighed as Aida nearly choked on her wine from the revelation Christine gave. "Yes, he is my son," Madeleine said, the kind voice from earlier now completely gone and replaced with disgust. "Although I will admit that I had long thought him to be dead. Tell me, Erik, have you shown your lovely _wife_ your face? When you contort it like that, one can hardly tell you apart from a corpse."

A quiet knock was heard, and Christine held onto Erik as she turned to watch Meg walk in with both children in her arms. Jolee was screaming and crying in her arms and Yevon was fussing, making it hard for her to hold both of them.

"I hate to ruin the lovely reunion, but Mama will be expecting me home soon," Meg said.

"It's okay, Meg. Sorry about the noise," Christine replied, walking over to her friend and taking her screeching daughter out of her hands. Rocking her, she held Jolee close as Meg quickly left. Turning back to face Madeleine, she felt tears pinprick the corner of her eyes as Erik wrapped an arm around her.

"How could you do that to your own child? You sold him to a _freak show_!"

"I had my reasons," Madeleine explained, not bothering to elaborate further as she fixated her gaze on the baby in Christine's arms. "Is that his?"

Christine moved closer to Erik, cradling Jolee closer to her in an effort to protect her. "Yes, this is Erik's daughter."

"And you didn't mishear that, Madeleine. She is _my_ daughter. In fact, I could go into great detail of the night in which she was conceived," he spat.

"I'm genuinely amazed that you could even stand to let him touch you in that sense, let alone how he is now," Madeleine retorted, glaring at Erik as she spoke. "In fact, I'm surprised he could even create a child. Tell me, dear, did he force himself onto you? Were you forced to carry his child? Did he threaten to kill you if you didn't marry him? Please, answer me honestly, have you seen his face? If you have, I'm more than certain you could understand why I had to rid myself of him."

"As a matter of fact, I _have_ seen his face. I, unlike you, do _not_ judge people based solely on their appearances. I love Erik, and I wanted to marry him for that same reason," she said, furious.

"He drove me to near insanity! First my beloved husband died, and then I gave birth to _him_ when all I wanted to do was _die_ so that I may be reunited with him again. But I kept telling myself that if my son was beautiful and was like his wonderful father, then everything would turn out wonderfully. Imagine, to my horror, when the midwives run out of my room screaming as I gave birth to the spawn of Satan instead of the beautiful son I was expecting!

"Watch your tongue, Madeleine," Erik warned. "I will not allow you to speak like that while my daughter is in the same room."

"Oh, such a brave man," she replied mockingly. "Whatever happened to the screaming, terrified child of long ago? Oh, Erik, I remember how you use to cry every time I refused to even look at you. I even remember having to hire a blind woman to nurse you so I could avoid the task myself."

"Lovely memories, _mother_," he growled. "So, who is this young child, then? From what I can tell, she seems to be yours. Now you tell me, did she have to _earn_ your affections or did you freely give them to her?"

"Speak for yourself. It seems you were miraculously able to produce a child," Madeleine taunted. "Is she as deformed as her father, Christine? Or is Erik even her true father?"

"You awful woman," Christine hissed. "I can't believe that a person could be so cruel."

"Now that you've grown and I am able to properly look at you, you really do look like your father, Erik," Madeleine said, ignoring the remark Christine made. "You have his strong jaw and the same air. The air that demanded respect. You even have his eyes…" she whispered. "What's your daughter's name?"

"Her name is Jolee," Erik said through clipped lips.

"As in 'pretty'," Madeleine sighed. "Does she have your eyes, too, Erik? The eyes of her grandfather?"

"Yes, she does," Christine said icily. "She's the most beautiful baby in the world."

"You should have seen Anthony and Aida when they were children," Madeleine said, smiling at her daughter who continued to stare in shock at Erik. Clearly, she was still in shock and unable to do anything else but stare.

"How wonderful. Two perfect children to make up for your first one," Christine snapped,

"That was the initial plan, yes," she replied calmly. "And it worked. Anthony is happily married and Aida is engaged. Besides, dear, shouldn't you be thanking me? If anything, my choices are what brought the two of you together."

"They _beat _and _whipped_ me, Madeleine!" Erik shouted.

Christine shook her head in disgust. "Get out of our house."

"And leave this poor child alone with a mother who has developed feelings for her captor and a father who is completely deranged? I could hardly do such a thing. Come, let me see her," Madeleine said, standing up and walking closer to the couple. Christine immediately stepped back, glaring at the woman as she held out her arms, waiting.

Feeling Erik shift beside her, she looked up and her eyes locked with his. She could see the pain he was holding back, as well as the anger still boiling inside of him. The wounds he believed to be healed had now opened up again, and Madeleine was only making things worse. Christine could tell he wanted to prove Madeleine wrong, and it was that knowledge that she let Erik take their daughter out of her arms and hand her over to the older woman. Feeling his lips brush against her burning cheeks, she glared at Madeleine as she held Jolee close to her.

"Ooh, she's so pretty," Madeleine crooned, rocking Jolee gently. "She looks just like her mother."

"I'm glad that you've accepted now. Now, if you may give Christine and me back our child."

"Why would I do that when I'm having such a wonderful time? Besides, your wife owes me. As I'm sure she told you earlier, I convinced her to go back to you. A mistake, but a rewarding one nonetheless."

"What do you want, then?" Christine demanded.

"To spend time with my grandchild, of course."

She had had enough. Christine stepped away from the safety of Erik's arms and stood in front of Madeleine. "Give me back my baby," she said very quietly.

"Is this any way to show gratitude?" she questioned in disbelief.

Christine reached out and pulled Jolee away from Madeleine. "Get out of my house."

"Why, Christine, you were so polite earlier. Whatever happened to that?"

"I found out you abused my husband and sold him like animal," she snapped.

"Dear, that was the past. And that's where we leave it: the past."

"Exactly. And your kind words to me where in the past. Now, please leave. You've overstayed your welcome."

Sighing, Madeleine turned to Aida and quickly ushered her to stand. "Come along, Aida. Let us leave the psychotic family alone." As they escorted themselves to the front door, Madeleine turned to face Christine and gave a thin smile. "I do hope he doesn't try to kill you and little Jolee in your sleep."

"_Out_," Erik growled in warning, not bothering with the little politeness that his wife had used.

"I'm leaving," she said reassuringly, exiting out onto the porch with Aida already waiting for her. "Oh, and Erik," Madeleine said, stopping and glancing over her shoulder to look at him, "his name was Charles Destler."

* * *

Madeleine breathed a sigh of relief as her and Aida entered the familiar walls of their large manor. "Aida," she said, taking her daughter's hands in hers. "Aida, my child, listen to me. You can never speak of what you saw. Not to your brother, your father, not even Henri. Do you understand me?"

"Oh, please, Mother. Like I want anyone, _especially_ Henri, to know I'm related to that _freak_."

"Promise me, Aida," she spat. "Do you not understand anything? You can never, _never _repeat what you have seen and heard tonight."

"All right, Mother, I promise," Aida said, rolling her eyes.

"Thank you, darling. Now please go and tell everyone that we're home. I believe that I need to lie down," she muttered, pressing her palm against her forehead as she climbed the stairs and headed towards her room.

Waiting until she could hear the door to her mother's room close, Aida grabbed a nearby servant who had been polishing some of the metal vases decorating the foyer. "Let my father and brother know that my mother and I are back," she instructed.

"Yes, _mademoiselle_, but…your father wishes to see you. His condition has gotten worse."

Nodding a simple thanks, Aida walked down one of the many hallways gracing her home and followed along the path of doors until she arrived to her father's separate bedroom. Pushing the door open, she crossed the room to her father's bed before kneeling humbly down on the side next to him. "How are you feeling, Daddy?"

Turning to smile at Aida, Marcel reached out and gently took her hand. "Much better, my sweet. I keep telling them to let me out of this blasted bed, but still they keep me here," he sighed, patting her hand. "How are you, my dear?"

"I'm worried about you! If the doctor tells you to stay in bed, you need to listen to him."

"Please, Aida, I am not that old. I still have some fight left in me. But please, Aida, tell me something new."

"Well, you may have already heard, but I'm engaged to Henri Duval."

Marcel smiled down at his daughter. "No, I haven't heard a thing about this. Is he a good man?"

"Oh, yes. And very wealthy and handsome," she said, smiling fondly as she thought of the man that graced her dreams ever night.

"You're growing before my very eyes, Aida," he whispered, reaching up a hand to hold a lock of ebony hair. "Listen to me, my little lamb; do _not_ let your brother carry out his plans to take over my case. If he does, he will only find misery and death. Just like your father did."

"Daddy, you're not going to die! Promise me you won't!"

"My pet, everyone has to die eventually. It's the way of life," Marcel explained with a sad smile. "Now, let us stop all this morbid talk. Where did you and your mother go this evening?"

"Oh, some girl invited us over for dinner. Apparently, Mother befriended her a few months ago or something," she said dismissively.

Marcel smiled again, leaning back into the many pillows that kept him propped up as he closed his eyes. "That sounds wonderful. Now, about this Duval character. When are you to have your wedding? I really should get a tailor down here to make you a dress for the occasion."

"Oh, that would be lovely! And I was thinking sometime in the spring would be nice. It's still so cold out…"

"That's winter for you. How is Felicity?"

"Fine, I suppose. Still kind of jumpy and nervous. She went out with Henri and me the other day and she was just the most horrible thing, Daddy!" Aida complained. "She was so moody and she was saying hurtful things to me. And when Henri finally stood up to her she began crying and refused to join us with our horseback riding."

Lifting her eyebrows at her father's laughter, Aida decided it best not to question it and continued to stare up at him, pouting slightly from the 'unfair way' Felicity treated her.

"Always so honest, my dear. I knew your brother was lying between his teeth," he said, laughing. However, his laugh quickly turned into a violent cough. Pounding his fist against his chest, he leaned over as his shoulders heaved from the attack his lungs were suffering.

"Daddy!" Aida reached out and put one hand on his forehead while the other one held his arm comfortingly. "Should I call the doctor for you?"

"No, leave that damned man out of this!" he wheezed, breathing heavily as the cough still racked his body.

"But you're sick! This is dangerous!" she said, reaching over to the pitcher and quickly pouring him a glass of ice water. When his coughing ceased, she handed him the cup and glared at him until he drank the whole thing.

"Aida, my love, do not worry about me," he said with a weary smile.

"Easier said than done, Daddy," she sat back, frowning at him. "And of _course _Anthony lied. That's all he ever does."

"Oh, Aida, do stop. Your brother is a good man. He takes care of you, doesn't he?"

She rolled her eyes. "I don't need protecting, Daddy. I'm not a child anymore."

"You're his little sister, are you not?"

"Well, yes, but I've grown up. I'm getting married in a few months."

Marcel sighed, smiling at his daughter as his hand reached up again to stroke her hair. "You can become an old spinster, but to him you will always be his little sister. He knows what's best for you, Aida, whether you believe it or not."

"Well, good, because I don't believe it. He doesn't even know what's best for himself."

"He's older than you, Aida, and a man. I'm sorry to tell you, dear, but he has the advantage in society."

Aida smirked at her father's remark. "Men are the figureheads, but they take all the blame. Women are the ones who whisper quietly in their ears, and have the ability to sway them one way or another."

"My, my. You have been learning from your mother," he chuckled. "Just be happy, Aida. Get married, have kids, grow old. That's what life is all about, darling."

"I will, Daddy. But you are not that old yet, so be sure to get better, alright? Do what the doctor tells you."

"That man doesn't know his right from his left," he retorted, glaring slightly at the medical bag placed at the foot of his bed.

"Well, please at least get some rest."

"Only if you can do a favor for me," Marcel said, winking at his daughter. Giving him a hurried nod, he patted her head in approval. "That's my girl. Henri offered to take Felicity to a…specialist. She hasn't been feeling well. Then later on I need you to stop by the de Chagny home for me."

"What kind of specialist?" Aida asked curiously. "And what could possibly be at the de Chagny house?"

"Well," Marcel sighed, rubbing his temples, "Felicity complains of pains and your brother believes it's all in her head. As for the de Chagny home, I need you to ask him to come here on my behalf. I desperately need to speak with the Vicomte."

"It probably _is_ all in her head," she muttered. "What kind of things do you need to talk about with him, Daddy?"

Marcel glanced at his daughter who only smiled innocently back up at him. "Questions about the Opera House murders. Monsieur de Chagny is a vital witness and is needed if I am to ever solve this case."

"I've read about those in the papers! This Opera Ghost…was he a man?" she asked thoughtfully.

"If he wasn't, I wouldn't have a bullet hole in my chest, dearest," he said with slight humor.

"I see…He was involved with that singer girl, Daaé, right? What did the Opera Ghost look like?" Aida asked, trying her best to sound merely curious.

"He threw some sort of magic trick at me before I could get a good look at him. But from the rumors among the ballet corps, he has a mask he always wears. I know I've seen him before, but he was in disguise."

Aida nodded, considering this new bit of information about a case that became renown throughout all of France almost overnight. "How is the de Chagny man involved in this?"

"He was an eye witness of Mlle. Daaé's first disappearance. Plus, I own the man information. He was her fiance before she was kidnapped."

"Really?" she thought about this, wondering how she could use it to her advantage. Standing up, she said, "Well, I should go to bed now. Goodnight, Daddy."

"Goodnight, my darling Aida. Stay out of trouble," he said with a smile as she stood and bent down to kiss his forehead. Leaving the room, she was fully determined to go straight to bed but the news that she had learned from her father still nagged in her mind. Deciding that sleep would be pointless until she figured some things out, she headed in the direction of her mother's room.

Upon arriving, she knocked against the wooden door and waited until her mother opened the door for her. "That man we saw tonight-your son-he's the Phantom of the Opera, isn't he?"

"Dear, it's late. What nonsense are you spouting?"

"Don't play dumb with me. That man with the mask from dinner."

Madeleine sighed in frustration. "How would I know, I've seen hide nor hair of him since today in over twenty years. Besides, I try my best to avoid getting involved in your father's work."

"He was with that singer girl, Daaé. _And _he was wearing a mask." She took a moment to pause. "Why _was _he wearing a mask? I got the impression that he was deformed.

"Hideously so," she replied. "He was not a baby but a mutated spawn of the devil."

"And now he has his own spawn," Aida muttered. "If he is the Phantom, Anthony will want to arrest him."

"Erik is not stupid enough to fall for your brother's tricks. Anthony may be smart, but Erik is smarter."

"That's not much of an accomplishment," she said, rubbing her head. "You couldn't have just killed him as a baby? Then we could've avoided this whole mess!"

Madeleine sighed. "I suppose I felt an obligation to his father. He was so excited about our child."

Aida stared at her mother, not sure how to respond to her statement. Since she was a little girl she had remembered her mother to be rather detached with everything around her. "Well, I have some things to do tomorrow so I'm going to bed now. Goodnight, Mother."

"Goodnight, Aida."

* * *

E: I'm. So. Horrible.

C: Yes, you truly are.

E: But, hey, we got plot development! Huzzah!

C: But at what cost?

E: Well, my sanity, for one. Sanity of the possible readers. My time. My grades, at times. My-

C: Okay, we get it, you are just the sacrificing _gods_ aren't you?

E: …I'm so glad you finally realized that! *big smile*

C: *sighs* I swear, one day you'll learn…

E: Omg…Omg omg omg! Erik found this shirt and he must have it and Erik will tell you but _none of you can have it because it's Erik's shirt!_

C: If you haven't bought it, it's not your shirt.

E: *ignores, as is Erik's favorite thing to do* It's a black shirt and in bloody red text are the words: Raoul should have died. Phantom forever.

C: And now people are going to look for that shirt and want to buy it.

E: _No! It's Erik's shirt, only Erik's shirt! No one can have it. Mineeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee_

C: Erik-

E: Mine!

C: Erik would you please-

E: No, Erik's shirt!

C: …Also, to be brief. We have a question for a certain reviewer that is completely unnamed. We're not trying to bash you or anything. We're just…very confused on the review you left.

E: *ahem* Why in the world did you have Erik and Christine and Meg and Raoul have all these kids we never plan for them to have, then have those kids have kids with each other and keep going on until they become their own first cousin?

C: We're not even kidding, I made a small tree map of this and it's true.

E: Like…I'm all for marriage. Heck, I'm all for incest marriage in families! Look at me, I read Godchild! That whole plot line is _based on an incest relationship!_

C: But…we're actually not sure why but it kinda weirded us out and we just want a little bit of an explanation.

E: But to everyone else, review! Review, ask questions, try to figure out how in the world this whole thing is going to play out! Because, guess what? I doubt you'll ever figure it out.

C: See you all next chapter.


	32. Trying to Move On

E: Anyone figure out where we plan to go with this whole crazy story? No one? ...That's what Erik thought *grins evilly*

C: Hello everyone and welcome back! We're all so glad that you decided to join us once again.

E: Yes, yes indeed. Oh, quick pop quiz. Anyone still hate Felicity Michelet Lafayette? *crickets* ...No one?

C: Erik, please don't start-

E: What is wrong with you people? Don't pity her!

C: Erik!

E: We're perfectly good to little Felicity. I mean, she's so happy! ...That came out wrong.

C: You think?

E: Also, we've announcements for everyone at the end of the chapter in the ending Author's Notes.

C: So think of it as a little reward for reading all the way through. Not that you wouldn't to begin with.

E: *collapses onto the ground* Erik can't move. Erik's whole back is sore. Christine, you're going to have to drag me to the Victome's home.

C: Why?

E: Because I blame him despite the fact that I haven't seen him in forever and then I'm going to run him through with a sword.

C: Erik, you worry me sometimes.

E: Everyone, keep your siblings away from Erik! Erik will scar them for the rest of their lives with yaoi! PWP for the win!

C: *smacks upside the head* Start the chapter up.

E: Everyone, enjoy the new chapter.

* * *

Roses of Life

* * *

Picking up Jolee from her crib, Christine held her child close as she walked out of the nursery and into the parlor. Sighing, she adjusted her hold on her daughter as she walked up behind Erik. It had been hours since Madeleine had left and her husband had not moved since he sat down. All through the night he remained in a brooding silence, not once getting up, the only words he spoke being to instruct Christine that she and Jolee should sleep. Although she eventually did, not much rest occurred as she kept waking up to check on him. Eventually she could no longer try to pretend to sleep and was grateful for the screams of her waking child.

"I am _so_ sorry," she whispered, walking up to the sofa and sitting beside him. "If…If I had only known, Erik, I would have _never_—" she was stopped as his hand reached up and gently brushed back a loose curl of brown from her face.

"You didn't know," he said, wrapping an arm around her as she moved closer. "You couldn't have possibly known." Taking a deep breath, he looked down at his daughter and sighed. "His name was Charles…And all this time my mother was still alive."

Kissing Erik's neck, she hummed quietly to Jolee as her head rested on his shoulder. "His last name was Destler…Do you want to change our name to that?" she asked quietly.

"No, _ma chérie_, no I don't want that. It's just…it was the last thing I expected her to say."

"Come to bed, Erik. It's late and you've been out here all night."

"I know, Christine, I'm coming," he whispered, closing his eyes one last time before standing up to join his wife. Reaching out his arms, he carefully took Jolee from her and held her close, watching as the small child ceased her crying as he quietly sang to her. All this time in his loneliness- before Jolee and long before Christine- he had convinced himself that he would never see Madeleine again. That she was nothing more than a horrid nightmare that was now lost to the past. The last person he would've expected in his home, a place he had grown to love more than the cellars he had spent most of his life in, had indeed come and turned everything around. Nothing seemed real, and Erik couldn't help but hold onto his daughter and allow Christine to guide him back to their room as if he was a child terrified of monsters in his bed. The monsters were there, in his mind at first, but now they had returned. Christine hadn't meant for any of this to happen, he knew that, yet he hated that she continually blamed herself for it.

Laying his tiny daughter down between himself and Christine, Erik couldn't hold back a small smile as her tiny fist wrapped around one of his fingers and held it close as she began to fall asleep. However, the smile quickly disappeared as the melancholy set on him once again. Did Madeleine know of his past after he escaped from the carnival? He knew of her husband, he was able to guess enough when he glanced at his half-sister: Aida. He had seen her only once before, when he was stalking about the catwalks trying to discover what l'Inspecteur Lafayette had discovered for the case. Having spotted him after several minutes of walking about backstage, Erik had watched as a young raven-haired woman ran up to him, complaining of her brother who was allegedly fraternizing with yet another ballet dancer.

Then it hit him. Erik had been so focused on the fact that his mother had returned that he hadn't fully realized the extent of what this news brought him. _I've a brother and a sister..._

"Erik?" Christine's soft voice called out to him. Shaking his head away from these troubling thoughts, he turned to her and reached out a hand to her cheek to assure her that he was all right. "Erik, what are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking of how sorry I am, Christine. That you were forced to witness that," he whispered, telling the truth. His control had almost been lost when he saw Madeleine's aged face. The only thing holding him back had been his fear of terrifying Christine and Jolee- something that he was trying his best to avoid nowadays. He was a father and a husband, which gave him hardly any time to be the terrifying menace that he was renowned for in the Opera Populaire. However Christine believed that the occasional note was best, what with the annoying husband of Madeleine on his tail.

"_You're _sorry? It's entirely my fault! You shouldn't have had to go through that," she muttered, reaching forward and wrapped her arms around him, their daughter comfortably sleeping between the two heartbeats.

"You didn't know who she was. You _couldn't_ have known who she was, Christine," Erik assured her. "You did nothing wrong, _mon ange_. I behaved inappropriately. To think, if I could have hurt you-"

"No, your reaction was completely justified," she cut him off, leaving no room for doubt or remorse to how he behave as her gaze became cold. "What that woman did to you was monstrous."

Quietly shushing her, Erik glanced down at their slumbering daughter before smiling again. In the forefront of his mind, the memory of all the nights he had spent in his Christine's arms came forth. "I have you now, as well as Jolee. I have the memory of the night we created her and when she was born. You've shown me all the love I will ever need in my life."

"You _deserve_ love; more than anyone else in the world, after what you've been through," she said.

"I'm afraid that isn't always a reason for love, _ma chérie_," he whispered, his emerald fixating on her warm brown ones, "but thank you."

Sighing, Christine moved closer to her husband, smiling down at their daughter as she carefully moved the child so that she was comfortably resting between the two. Leaning her head down, Christine's curls surrounded Jolee as her cheek rested against Erik's chest. Both of them could hear his strong heartbeat, and she found that the rhythmic beating was having the same effect on her as it had on her daughter. "Can we just forget that this night ever happened?"

"I don't think we can, my love. If Madeleine wishes, she will have no problem in meddling in our lives." He didn't want to bring up the subject of his fears until he was sure that the possibility could rise. He had acquired enough money through his many salaries to ensure a fair bribe while keeping his small family comfortable. But the woman had clearly lived in a constant source of wealth, which could mean that a few more francs would not be enough to sway her.

"You underestimate me," Christine said, tilting her head up to look at Erik. "If I want her out of our home, she'll stay out."

Chuckling, he reached a hand up and gently touched the smooth skin of her cheek. She truly was an angel sent for him. "My strong, brave, beautiful wife," he whispered. "I have no doubt of that. Now you need to sleep, _ma amour_, it has been a... a _long_ day."

"Promise me that you won't dwell on this," Christine said worriedly.

Kissing her forehead, Erik tried his best to give her a reassured smile. He had to wipe away the look of concern staining her beautiful face; it was all he had ever wanted to do since he had discovered her as a child. "I'll be _fine_, Christine," he said.

Giving a thin smile, she nodded her acceptance, collapsed back onto the pillows, and closed her eyes as his hand began stroking her hair. "Do you want me to go and put her back in her crib?" Erik's voice quietly asked her.

"She's just fine here for now," Christine said sleepily, "unless you think one of us is going to roll over on top of her."

"You've no bump to stop you from rolling on over," he teased.

"I know," she said, slightly sad. "I miss it."

"We can always have another child, Christine."

"I suppose, but _you _have to give birth to it," she teased back.

He laughed quietly at her remark, "I don't believe I could do that, nor do I think that I would wish to."

"You're right," she murmured. "Then I'll think about it. We do have to take care of this one first, after all," Christine said, her eyes growing heavy as she heard him softly sing above her voice. The enchanting sound seemed to make her whole body feel heavy, and as she brushed her fingers across her daughter's fine hair, it wasn't long until she drifted into a deep sleep.

Intently watching her peaceful face, Erik waited until Christine's breathing slowed down and even. She was fast asleep in his arms, just as she had willingly done many nights before. His own daughter was contentedly resting between the two of them, also in a deep and resting sleep. No nightmares plagued either of their faces, nor were they haunted by demons that hid deep in their minds.

All this was his. Before Christine had agreed to stay with him a life this happy was even beyond his imagination. He had never expected to win her love, to ever leave the catacombs of the Opera Populaire, or to even have the chance of raising a child that was his own. And with one simple afternoon, all of this was in jeopardy.

Carefully extracting herself from Christine, Erik gazed down at his two sleeping angels as an immense feeling of helplessness and desolation washed over him. Turning from the welcoming bed, he made his way through the quiet house and made his way downstairs. Even when he was brought to live in the light, he sought solace in the soft glow of burning candles.

Stepping further down into his own world-his own distortion of heaven and hell-he immediately went to the grand organ that was in the back of the room. As he sat down and allowed his hands to move freely over the polished ivories, he emptied his mind. Now was not the time for fear to consume him and poison his thoughts. His trust must be placed in his wife, that this afternoon would be the last he would ever see of the family he was replaced with.

Upstairs, Christine frowned in her sleep as her dreams opened up into a dark vein. The sound of a mocking, cruel laughter surrounded her in the darkness. The face of Madeleine appeared, twisted and deformed from hate and anger, as the woman carried away her shrieking daughter. Finally, she woke with a gasp as her hands darted out to pull her fussing daughter in her arms. Little Jolee had no doubt been affected by her dark thoughts and Christine placed soft kisses along her forehead as she held the tiny child close. Hearing Erik's music float delicately up from the basement, she felt her racing heart calm as she quietly hummed along. Soon Jolee fell back asleep; her innocent features relaxing as her tiny hand reached out and held onto her mother.

* * *

The next morning came quickly, lighting up the vast and ornate room that Felicity shared with Anthony every night. As a swarm of maids bustled about- serving her breakfast, preparing her clothes for the day, pulling back the curtains and other such menial tasks- Felicity sat on the edge of her bed in silence. The previous night, when Madeleine and Aida had gone out for dinner, Anthony had once again cornered her. Instead of giving in to his will like their previous encounters, she had fought back. He didn't seem to mind at first until she bit his tongue then his hand when he had tried to stop her from sobbing. Curses spewing out of his mouth like a fountain, Anthony had informed her that he would arrange for her to meet with a doctor. Aida, who had planned to go and look into how her bridal dress was coming along, was forced to come with her and Anthony to the doctor. It was obvious from her furious shouting at Anthony that she was very displeased with this news.

Emerging from her room, Aida's footsteps called from down the hall until she appeared in Felicity's doorframe. She had taken no rush, as by the time she arrived Felicity had been fed and dressed. "Are we leaving, or not?" she said impatiently.

"Are you sure that Anthony can't stay here?" she whispered to the older woman, her large eyes only growing wider as Anthony appeared from behind his sister.

"Hurry up!" he demanded, frowning in annoyance as he shoved his winter coat on. "It's cold as hell outside and Henri and I don't plan to wait out there and catch our deaths!"

"Yes, Anthony," Felicity answered hurriedly, standing up so quickly that she immediately fell back. Headaches had been following her like the plague along with other ailments, and they always seemed to affect her when it was the most inconvenient. Closing her eyes, Felicity was terrified that she would be shouted at for both her behavior and her inability to move along fast enough. Thankfully, Anthony had already left to join Henri outside.

Trembling, Felicity quickly stood up again and ran to Aida, her hands clutching onto the forest green sleeve of her sister-in-law's dress. "He's the Devil, Aida!" she whispered. "He comes in here every night and... and _forces _himself on me! He calls me horrible things and when he's...when he's drunk he hits me!" Felicity cried out, desperately trying to hold back her sobs as Aida gazed down on her. No one knew of her relationship with her husband, it was unnecessary information. But she had to tell someone; else she was sure that she'd grow mad!

"You have to believe me," she whispered frantically. "Last night he told me that I was to be taken out. That I was to go to a doctor to see if I was insane. Aida, I don't need to be locked away, I need _help_.

"I know you don't want to smear the good name of your family," she assured, smiling sweetly as she moved closer to Aida. "But Aida, what your brother does isn't right. I know that much. And Aida...oh Aida the nights. The nights when he's not there; when I'm alone in that dark and empty room. I dream of horrors, Aida. My mind is filled with images of a child that just looks like him," she said, tears falling down her face as her voice fell to a whisper once again. "Aida, these horrors are too much for me. I fear that if I carry his child I could not _live with myself_. To not only endure this pain but to allow others to suffer alongside me? Oh, Aida, you must stop this madness, _you must_!"

A silence passed between the two, causing Felicity to drop her hands down to her side once again. There was no mistaking the look Aida was giving her. The woman was well aware of everything that went on under the Lafayette roof, even Felicity and Anthony's relationship. But unless there was something for her, what use was it?

Aida sighed, brushing back loose locks of hair as her eyes quickly darted to her reflection in the mirror on the other side of the room. "Well, if you are with child, you can always visit a doctor and have him...operate. It's risky, but I'm sure that Anthony would cover it up in a heartbeat should it somehow be discovered."

"Doctors don't do that, common street madames do," she hissed. Suddenly her face fell as Aida's words hit her full on. "You don't believe me, do you? You've _never_ believed me!" she screamed, tears running down her face as she turned away. It was gone, the only tiny ray of hope she had was snuffed out before it could even grow.

"Stop yelling," Aida scolded. "I believe you. Go find a doctor in a whorehouse, and before you get mad, I'm not implying that you are a whore. My brother doesn't deserve to have any more children, and the last thing this world needs is another Anthony."

Her soul almost seemed to soar at the words Aida spoke. Perhaps everything would be all right after all. "Yes...you're right," she said, confidence mixed with defeat in her voice. "I should just...rest. Go to the doctor for this headache..."

"Exactly," Aida said. "Now, let's go. Henri's waiting," she said, turning and heading down the hall with Felicity and out to the waiting carriage. Once inside, she immediately moved beside Henri and smiled warmly at him before her eyes turned cold at seeing her brother.

"Why do you have to come again? Don't you have to work?"

Anthony sighed as Felicity reluctantly sat beside him. "That damned old man is still refusing to let me help on the case, even with one foot in his grave." Turning to Felicity, he ignored her obvious flinch as he leaned close and put a hand on her flat stomach. "And how is the future heir doing this evening?" he asked wickedly.

"I-I'm not w-w-with child, Anthony," she stammered, shying away from his hand.

"Felicity's just going because of a headache, Anthony," Aida said dismissively.

"And pains..." Felicity added quietly. _And because my husband believes me to have lost my marbles_.

Henri smiled at Felicity, giving her a tiny bit of kindness before he turned to Aida. "I'll be glad that mother has convinced me on which church we are to be married in," he explained with a grin.

"Oh how wonderful!" Aida exclaimed, laughing joyously as he leaned over her to the carriage window and pointed out the very church as they passed it. Peering out also, Felicity watched as the grand Notre Dame cathedral towered far above them. So very different from the modest and quiet venue where she had had her own wedding.

"It's so beautiful!" Aida gushed, causing Henri to blush slightly.

"It can't hold a candle up to you, my dear," he whispered, smiling shyly as she turned from the window to look at him.

"You flatter me!" she giggled as the carriage stopped in front of a small building.

"Good Lord," Anthony muttered, opening the door before the carriage driver could and stepping outside. "I think _I'm_ going to be sick," he moaned. Aida glared as Henri helped her out.

"Good thing that we're at a doctor, then. We wouldn't want you to suffer an...accident."

"I must agree. How else would I be able to sire more children?" he said, catching Felicity as she tried to walk past him. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her closer as he smiled down at her. "Did you enjoy our midnight rendezvous, darling?" he asked, kissing her.

"Now _I'm_ going to be sick," Aida groaned. "Move out of the way and let us get inside."

"Are my words too naughty for my little virgin sister?" Anthony teased, a devilish smile on his face as Felicity pushed herself out of his grasp and hurried inside. Chuckling, he led the rest of the group inside to the small room filled with a small group of chairs. Informing the young assistant that Felicity was expected, his wife was immediately taken away. Following behind, Aida's hand latched onto him and yanked him back.

"Father told me last night that he wanted _you_ to stop by and question the Vicomte de Chagny about that Opera scandal. Would you mind ever so much if Felicity and I went shopping while you did that? It would be _terribly_ boring for us otherwise, and I still need to pick up a few things," she said, making sure to speak so that Henri could hear.

"I don't think so, Aida. We need to keep an eye on her."

"And you don't think I'm capable of looking after her?" Aida questioned, raising her eyebrows.

"I'm more concerned that she'll wander off somewhere. I'd prefer to keep an eye on her," he said. Henri, having heard the exchange, stepped up beside Aida.

"Perhaps we should let them, Anthony. Wouldn't they just...get in the way of your questioning?"

Aida smiled up at Anthony triumphantly. "Please?"

"Fine, fine! But if she so much as _whimpers_ about her 'pains', you take her straight home. I already have to listen to her night terrors; I don't need _you_ adding onto them."

"How could _I_ possibly add onto it?" she said, smirking.

"Felicity cries about how you 'abuse' her in her sleep," he said, dropping his voice so that Henri couldn't hear. "_That_ is how."

"Really? I was under the impression that she was more afraid of _you_," she hissed before stepping back and speaking in a normal tone, "I'll take care of Felicity, brother dear. I already think of her as a sister, and I know how much she means to you."

"Touché, sister _darling_. I trust that you will take good care of Felicity. Don't let her wander around too much," he advised before clasping his hand on Henri's shoulder and leading the young man outside with him, going on about the details he had learned of the case.

Rolling her eyes, Aida slipped down the hallway to the room where Felicity was being examined. Knocking on the wood, she called, "Almost done in there?"

A doctor stepped out, peering down at a chart filled with scribbles and notes. "Evening, Mademoiselle, are you Madame Lafayette's relative?" Aida nodded. "Well, I did a quick check up on Madame Lafayette and I didn't find anything wrong with her physically. Nothing broken and such. However, the state of her mental health is somewhat cause for concern. She's very jumpy and nervous, which can be easily remedied with some medication. Plenty of fresh air and I could prescribed a sedative to help with her nerves; help sooth her and such if she becomes hysteric at any point. Opium would probably be best."

Aida nodded again, "So she's not pregnant?"

"If she is, it's far too early to tell."

"Thank you, Monsieur," she said before walking past him and into the room where Felicity sat in silence. "Well, he's giving you some opium and suggests lots of fresh air. If you _are_ pregnant, God forbid, then it's too early to tell."

"I'm not!" Felicity insisted. "Now, if you don't mind, I wish to go home. Where are Henri and Anthony?"

"I convinced them to go without us. Now we can go shopping," she replied happily.

"Why would I want to go shopping? I want to go home and rest," she whined, holding the side of her head. "My head still hurts, Aida, I need sleep not more _things_!"

"Would you rather have gone with Anthony?"

Felicity glared at Aida. "I'd rather go _home_!"

"Well, I need to pick up some things for the wedding. You can wait in the carriage," she said before turning out to face the hallway. "Can we get that sedative now!" Seeing the doctor hurry down the hall, she leaned back as he entered the room. Corking a clear bottle, the elderly man checked the contents one last time before placing the glass in Aida's hands.

"Just add two drops of this in her drink twice a day and she'll be just fine," he instructed.

"Oh, I'll be doing that more than twice a day," she muttered. Handing the bottle to Felicity once the doctor left, she said, "Here. Drink this."

"What is it?" she asked, wearily inspecting the bottle.

"Some sedative the doctor is giving you. Two drops a day."

"No, thank you," she murmured, pushing the bottle back in Aida's hands. "I'm better off without it."

"Fine then," Aida huffed, "I'm going to drag you to every bridal store in town."

"I could've sworn that your father was going to bring in a professional tailor or some other sort of nonsense," she said bitterly. "Besides, I'm the _married_ one, Aida. If I go home like _I_ want to, you'll have no choice but to follow me. As an unmarried woman, people would _think things_ if you were to walk around without an escort. And you know your parents detest ruining the family name."

Aida rolled her eyes at Felicity's empty threat. "It's my carriage, the driver listens to me. No you."

"Then I'll walk home. Or call a carriage to take me. Either way, I'm not spending my afternoon with the likes of you."

"Oh, _no_, you're not. Anthony would kill me if you got yourself hurt. You can sleep in the carriage if you can't stand my company that much," she said, turning and leaving the room. Scowling, Felicity followed the raven-haired girl out into the waiting carriage.

"Will there be anything else to do besides sit aside and watch you admire yourself in the mirror?"

"You can get your bridesmaid's dress," she said.

"Oh joy, now I'll be getting pinched by spinsters as well."

"Interesting... Being ill gives you a backbone." Aida considered this. "Alright, noted." Leaning back into the plush cushions, Aida listened wearily as Felicity continued to complain about this and that. She was hungry, she was tired and wanted to go home, she was nauseous, why did she have to go to a bridal salon; the list went on and on.

"Why can't we do something that we'll _both_ enjoy?"

"Because, Felicity, I have to get this done," she replied calmly. "I don't trust anyone else to do it. However, I do plan to stop and pick up some lunch on the way home."

"And then I'll be forced to watch you pick at your food," she hissed as the carriage came to a stop in front of a small building with dresses being shown in the store window.

"You can eat too, you whiny brat," Aida snapped at her.

"I'm only the mirror being held up in front of you, Aida," Felicity spat, stepping out of the carriage and immediately going into the shop.

Aida got out of the carriage after her, trying to stay close behind the younger girl as they were brought into the back portion of the store. "Mirrors break."

Staring at the multitude of dresses, Felicity's eyes grew wide as each dress seemed to get more ridiculous and more painful looking. She imagined herself wearing them, trapped beneath yards of ribbon, lace, tulle, petticoats and God knew what else. "Oh no, Anthony," she muttered, "we'll only be gone a few moments. Just look at a few dresses," she mocked.

"Oh, you won't have to see your husband for several hours. You're welcome," Aida said icily before turning to an elderly woman who was no doubt the owner of the small store. "My name is Aida Lafayette. How are the dresses that I ordered coming along?"

"Splendidly, Mademoiselle," the storekeeper said, smiling warmly at her. "We've received a few of the gowns this very morning. Would you like to see them?"

"Yes, please," she said cheerfully.

"Right this way then, Mademoiselle," the woman said, leading the two girls through to a section of the store that seemed separated from the rest. Several dresses where folded neatly on selves, while four were placed on mannequins and placed close together. "Here are the dresses, Mademoiselle."

"Oh, good, they're coming along nicely. Felicity, this is your dress," Aida said, smiling as she pointed to the only dress that was a different color from the other ones that were being modeled by the wooden dummies.

Felicity stared at the dress, trying her best to look genuinely happy with the choice. It was a pretty dress, but not in Felicity's eyes. The dress, as with all of the ones placed on the shelves, was an obnoxious color with an abundance of trimming and lace. "I don't like it," she said.

"Big surprise there," Aida said, waving her hand as she went up to inspect the other dresses. "How are you on measurements?"

"We just need one more bridesmaid to come in then I'll be able to finish tailoring the dresses, Mademoiselle." Nodding her head, Aida went along to the three different choices for her bridal dress. Each one was a lovely shade of white with orange blossom pinned all over the place to create a stunning dress.

"You know, I used to have much more fun than this," Felicity said, clearly bored. "When I was in the ballet corps, I wanted to be a reporter so badly. Mother never approved though, as it wasn't what little girls did.

"But there were always so much to discover at the Opera Populaire. And my favorite story was the rumor of the Phantom of the Opera, and I followed every single lead that I found. Your father even interviewed me once while he was searching for clues there," she said, smiling slightly at the memory. "Once I even went down in the catacombs to find him. _That_ was fun." She sighed, leaning against her hand as Aida went rigid. "Now look what I'm reduced to," she huffed. "Married to a horrid man and sitting in a dressmaker's shop while you look at the same dresses over and over again-"

"Wait a minute. The Phantom of the opera? You _met_ him?" she asked incredulously.

"Several times. He could be a bit...eccentric at times, but he seemed like a nice enough man," she said before stopping suddenly. Glancing at Aida, she knew she had said too much. "Why do you want to know?"

Aida turned to the dressmaker and said, "I'll ask the last girl to stop by later this week. Thank you for everything." Taking Felicity by the arm, she pulled her outside and into the carriage. Once they were safely inside, Aida pulled the window curtain's closed before leaning close to Felicity. "I think I met him the other day," she admitted.

"I doubt it," Felicity scoffed. "He's been in hiding in the Paris Opera House for _years_. Few have seen him and lived to tell the tale."

"That curly haired girl he's living with invited Mother and me over for dinner, and half-way through it, this masked freak walked in and started screaming at us."

Felicity paused, thinking it over before shaking her head in disbelief. "Not possible. He's not stupid enough to invite the family of the man hunting him down over for tea and biscuits-"

"He didn't, that girl did. That singer girl, Daaé."

"Well, either way he's not the type to start shouting at you."

"So you don't believe me," Aida said.

"For all I know, you're making this whole thing up as a joke. So no, I don't," Felicity answered. Glaring at Felicity, Aida turned away and quickly tapped the ceiling before pulling back the curtain and sticking her head out. After whispering an address in the driver's ear, she sat back down, a satisfied look on her face as the carriage began moving. "Um, Aida?" Felicity asked, peering out the window for a second. "Where are we going?"

"We are going to the place Mother and I went to last night. You can see for yourself."

* * *

**Announcement Time!**

E: Hello all my wonderful fans!

C: It is the long awaited time for our announcements just for you all.

E: But first! We would like to thank everyone for reading the chapter! And Erik has been reading all the people who read this story. Erik is not stupid, Erik demands reviews, my lovelies.

C: Erik, what have I told you about threatening them?

E: Christine still thinks that Erik listens. *pats Christine's head* Oh, you poor thing.

C: Anyway... Onto our announcement list!

E: First and foremost, people Erik has a poll up on his profile!

C: When we finish up this story (or Erik finishes a story to begin with) we _are_ going to continue writing.

E: But Erik doesn't know which one to pick! So you all need to hurry your way over to his profile and _vote, vote, vote_!

C: Second on our list: We have started up a fanart base.

E: It was all Erik's idea. He drew a picture of our adorable little Jolee. *picks her up* Yes, Daddy drew you, _ma petite chérie. Tu es très mignon! Oui, c'est vrai!_

C: ...

E: *ahem* But I digress. So, after Erik finished his little drawing, he had a little talk with his wife. After about an hour of this conversation, we figured 'why the hell not'? So, if anyone who reads our story is interested, you can submit fanart! Anything you've ever wanted to draw, _you can draw it_! Especially Aida and Anthony, because we all know that they're everyone's favorites, right? Right...

C: We're putting up a link to the place where we'll hold all the submission and have a link for it via Erik's profile.

E: And you don't have to be good! It can be stick figures, it can be a random collection of pictures, it can be _anything_!

C: Erik really wants to do this more to get everyone more involved in the story. Plus he just loves drawing, so Erik will be joining everyone that gets involved.

E: If you're interested, just go ahead and send Erik a pm. *smiles and holds up Jolee to the camera* Say 'hi' _mon petit ange._ Tell them how they'll all see what you look like soon.

C: And that's everything!

E: Everyone review, send in stuff, make Erik happy, and see you all next chapter!


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